


The Weight of the Knife

by ObligatoryNasty



Series: High School AU [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Bullying, Child Abuse, Choking, Crying, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Mentions of Puke, Smut, Starker, Threats of Violence, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Will I give these teens a break?, badboy!Tony, lol no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:16:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23030812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObligatoryNasty/pseuds/ObligatoryNasty
Summary: In this sequel, Tony and Peter have been happily dating for six months, but that starts to change after Peter witnesses something awful. To make matters worse, there’s a new student in town kicking up dirt in all the wrong places. With tensions running high and spring break around the corner, Peter struggles with self-confidence, betrayal, and the intricacies of maintaining a long-term relationship.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: High School AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655212
Comments: 33
Kudos: 245





	1. Edgeless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [von_gelmini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/gifts).



When Peter crossed the threshold into the Stark mansion, the first image that etched itself into his mind was the painting that hung in the foyer. It was massive; nearly covering a two-story wall from ceiling to floor. Adorned with an ornate frame, it stood out from its modern surroundings – partially due to the happy visage of Howard Stark and the even happier young Tony – but mainly due to the large white sheet draped over half of the frame. Peter could tell from the gentle feminine hand placed atop the young Tony's shoulder that it was his mother, Maria Stark, who was obscured. It was hard to fathom – covering a painting in such a blatant way – but watching Tony completely ignore it was even harder. The image was so ingrained that the impact Peter felt was nothing more than a diluted normalcy to Tony.

So Peter didn't bring it up. Instead, he made small talk about the twelve car garage and the unbelievable size of the chandelier that hung in the dining room. He remarked about the mansion’s eerie spotlessness; a feeling like no one lived there or, as Tony clarified, like a dozen house staff maintained the property. He chatted about the practically untouched furniture and how the polished marble tiles squeaked beneath their sneakers, echoing against the high ceilings, as they hurried to the lab. 

“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here, Tones?” Peter asked, each new step into the mansion scratching at his latent anxieties.

“Definitely not but that just makes it more fun, doesn’t it, baby?” 

Tony delivered the line with a heap of charm and that signature bad boy grin. He was so nonchalant, never bothered and always teasing. Sometimes Peter couldn’t believe he was dating the infamous bad boy; the fearsome fighter; the unhinged delinquent; Tony –  _ fucking _ – Stark. Yet, in their six amazing months as a couple, Peter has had the pleasure of seeing him more as the remarkable genius, the hilarious car singer, and the loyal friend. Sure, Tony was a bad boy through and through but Peter had given him the space to be anything other than that and, so far, they were thriving because of it.

“Maybe it’s more fun for you, but I’m stressed. I’m anxious. I’m-” Peter was stunned into silence when Tony ushered him into the lab. The workspace was a sharp contrast to the rest of the house. It was cluttered; multiple workbenches and desks scattered with complex machinery and technological marvels. “I’m in heaven.” Peter sighed dreamily.

Tony laughed, leaning close, whispering in Peter’s ear a very flirty, “I know something else that could take you to heaven.”

“Tony!” Peter giggled, jumping away from his boyfriend, his face flushed pink. “We’re in your  _ dad’s lab _ !” His laughter trailed off as he wandered the room. His nerd senses were on overdrive and his attention to everything else was waning in the face of all the robotic spectacles and hologram capabilities. 

“You’re right.” Tony threw his hands up in surrender. “Wouldn’t want to get caught in here.”

“Exactly,” Peter nodded, brows furrowing in focus as he examined a circuit board that seemed to be forgotten in a pile of desk clutter. “Are you sure your dad isn’t coming home any time soon?”

“I’m sure enough." Tony smiled, stepping forward to hook his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “But let’s stay focused, sweetheart. I promise I’ll show you around more next time.”

“Okay,” Peter pouted, ditching the circuit board and falling out of his tech-obsessed trance, allowing Tony to lead him to the large hologram screen at the center of the room. 

“Plus, we have that thing at your place later,” Tony said as he began navigating the screen with small flicks of his hand. “I just need to find one thing on this computer and then we can go to the... what exactly did Auntie call it again?”

“Our six month anniversary dinner extravaganza,” Peter punctuated each word with grand hand gestures, all coated in sarcasm. “Catered by  _ chef May _ ,” Peter joked, mocking his aunt’s voice. “Why she thinks we care about things like that is beyond me.”

“Oh?” Tony glanced at his boyfriend with a raised brow and a sly smile. “But I got you a gift, baby.”

“No, you didn’t!” Peter laughed, playfully pushing against Tony’s shoulder. “You said we’d celebrate a year.  _ You _ said that.” He paused, eyebrows momentarily knitting in concern, “Wait, you didn’t actually get me something, did you?”

“And what if I did?”

“I would obviously fall into an empty-handed panic.” Peter feigned terror, emphasizing his jest by throwing a dramatic hand against his forehead before letting his expression drop into a small pout. “But, really, did you get one?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but it’s not like I need a gift in return.” Tony stopped searching the console, glancing at Peter with suggestive eyes. “You can just let me fuck the lights out of my virgin boyfriend and we'll call it even.”

“Tony! Oh my-” Peter blushed, covering his face and laughing into his hands as the embarrassment bubbled within him. “O-Okay, first of all, MJ says virginity is a construct.”

“And as usual, she’s right,” Tony joined the laughter, shaking his head as his focus drifted back to the computer. “Virginity  _ is _ a construct – and with all the shit we’ve done, calling you a virgin just wouldn’t do that mouth justice, sweetheart – but still, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to fuck you until you’re a mess.”

Peter froze, his cheeks going a deeper red at his boyfriend’s candid words and his mind running through memories of their most fervent makeout sessions. Like the time Tony used Peter’s mouth – just fucking  _ used _ it however he wanted. Or the time he naively wondered how his boyfriend managed to last for so long and Tony proceeded to edge him for an hour. And Peter still got goosebumps whenever he thought about that time in Tony’s backseat when he first learned what frotting was.  _ Fuck _ , he could go on forever but the soft touch of his boyfriend’s hand smoothing through his hair pulled his focus.

“I know we’re joking and shit but- will you...or I mean, do you want to?”

And Peter could tell by the way Tony averted his eyes, speaking so nervous and low, that the question was serious. So, for a moment, he considered if this was the right time to say yes; if this was the right time to go all the way. Yet, he struggled with that phrase – that _ right time _ and the inherent importance it somehow held. As if sex was a special frontier that he needed to cross with care. It was strange because although this type of sex was new, being sexual was not; being close to Tony was not; being intimate was not. There were far more important milestones to worry about, so why was his heart thrumming so loud at the mere thought of answering?

“Okay,” Peter finally spoke, solidifying his answer with a smile and a nod. “How about during the break? I-Is that okay?”

“Wait, for real?” Tony perked up, his expression beaming. “I mean, no pressure, baby. You don’t actually have to if you don’t want to, but if you want to – like really fucking want to, not some  _ my-boyfriend-wants-to-so-I-want-to  _ bullshit – then yes. Hell yes. The break is fucking perfect. It’s-”

“Okay, don’t get too excited,” Peter giggled, leaning against Tony’s shoulder and breathing in the older boy’s scent to calm his nerves. “I want to, so I’ll have to p-prep and stuff, but yeah- last day of school is in two days so we’ll have time this weekend to – I don’t know –  _ focus _ on it, or I mean- um... _ fuck _ , talking about it like this is weird.”

Tony pressed a kiss to the top of Peter’s head, “First rule of fucking: Don’t do any fucking until you can actually talk about fucking.”

“Good tip,” Peter crossed his arms and grinned. “Should I credit Pepper or Bruce for that one?”

“Wow, excuse you,” Tony shook his head, mirroring Peter’s grin. “It was actually Rhodey. His dad taught him about sex stuff and he taught me.” His smile faded then, “I mean, it’s not like my old man would teach me anything about that shit anyway.”

Peter’s expression fell solemn, “The important thing is that you learned it, right?” He slipped a gentle hand underneath Tony’s leather jacket, rubbing comforting circles into the small of his back. “If it makes you feel any better, ever since we started dating, May won’t shut up about safe sex. Every morning, when I’m trying to have a peaceful breakfast, she’s there talking about condoms or lube or –  _ oh my god _ – ‘anal cleanliness’ and I’m just mortified in front of my cheerios.”

“Glad to hear Auntie has been advocating for me to get my dick wet.”

“Oh god,” Peter shook his head, gripping his sides from laughter. “Do not say  _ Auntie _ and  _ dick wet _ in the same sentence!”

Tony laughed, “I was just- oh shit, hold up, I found it,” Tony focused on the screen, quickly moving to transfer the file to his phone. 

Peter leaned in to get a closer look, “Found  _ what _ exactly?”

“The file I need to upgrade Jarvis.”

“Wait, why do you need your dad’s file to upgrade Jarvis?”

“It’s less of an upgrade and more of a key... well, it’s not really that either,” Tony explained. “My dad has this elaborate dynamic encryption protecting the Stark Industries file system and, where Jarvis is right now, he doesn’t have the processing power to brute force the encryption before a new key is set.”

“Oh!” Peter joyfully interrupted, “And this file will give Jarvis access to the encryption key, which would, in theory, give you access every time the encryption algorithm changes to a new key.”

“Fuck, baby, you really know how to turn a guy on.” Tony playful bit his lip and wiggled his eyebrows at Peter.

“Tony!” Peter blushed, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Seriously.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” Tony laughed, turning his attention back to the downloading file. “But you’re almost right. This file  _ is _ the encryption algorithm so by having Jarvis learn this, he should be able to learn not only how to break in, but also how to predict any improvements made to it.”

“So you’ll never be locked out of Stark Industries again.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Now  _ that’s _ something to get turned on about.”

Tony raised his brow and turned towards Peter, placing a gentle hand on the younger boy’s hips. “Am I making you hot and bothered, sweetheart?”

“Maybe a little,” Peter softly spoke, bracing himself on Tony’s arms as he was hoisted up onto a desk. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What am I  _ not _ going to do?” Tony playfully whispered as he stepped between Peter’s knees, wrapping his arms around Peter’s svelte frame, pulling their chests together and closing the gap between their lips.

Whenever they kissed, Peter was reminded of their first. He was reminded of how nervous he was; how bashful; how shaky. Sitting in his bedroom with his face cupped in Tony’s hands, feeling that heated closeness and the warm breath tickling his lips. Their first kiss was tender, slow, and full of emotion. It was so different from the kiss they shared now.

This kiss was frantic and hungry, filled with emotion but fueled by lust. Their lips crashing together like being apart was agony and their hands exploring every inch of exposed flesh, just aching to dip beneath hems and seams. Peter had gained confidence in kissing, even when open-mouthed and graced by tongue. Threading his fingers through Tony's hair had become commonplace and moaning into Tony's mouth was a thoughtless eventuality. A few months ago, he would have cringed at the thought of making such needy sounds but now, he reveled in it. 

Not a lot made him nervous these days. His stutter was practically gone and his skittish nature seldom made an appearance. Something about facing his bullies head-on just  _ changed _ him. He was the picture of courage, dauntless and bold, the most fearless…

_ Oh fuck. _ Peter was dragged from his thoughts by the electric sensation of Tony’s hand on his nipple, pinching and rubbing at the tender nub as the kiss became rougher. Tony tugged Peter’s bottom lip through his teeth, pleasantly groaning at the satisfied expression on the younger boy's face.

Peter gasped, dipping his head down to hide his surely flushed cheeks and clutching at Tony’s leather sleeves like they were the ground that kept him from short-circuiting. “T-Tony, th-that  _ um _ \- that’s-”

“What is it, baby?” Tony gave a smug grin, bringing a hand up beneath Peter’s jaw, gradually squeezing as he guided Peter’s gaze to his. “Go on, tell me.”

And all Peter could do was whine, shakily and through a strained breath. The lightheaded rush of being choked and the mere presence of Tony’s touch making him bulge in his jeans. His hands trembled where they grasped and his eyes yearned for more. So Tony gave a final hard squeeze before pulling his hand away, opting to grab a handful of Peter’s curls. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“T-Tony, I-I’m-  _ um _ ...i-it’s-” Peter stuttered, falling back into his nerves like they were never really gone. “It’s g-good.”

“There you are,” Tony whispered, a mischievous smile working its way to his lips as he grazed his fingertips against the hardness just beyond Peter’s zipper. “All nervous and cute just for me.”

The only response Peter could muster was a high-pitched  _ Mhmm _ and a slight pull on Tony’s sleeves, making the older boy lean in for another kiss – and  _ holy shit _ was it a really fucking good kiss.

So good that the Jarvis alert was background noise and the  _ click _ of the door handle was their first indicator that Tony’s dad had arrived. The sound made Tony’s shoulders go rigid as he recoiled away from Peter, quickly closing the hologram console before glaring at the door with tension in his eyes. 

Howard stepped into the room, dressed in slacks and a button-up shirt with rolled sleeves and a loose tie. His face was cast in a five o’clock shadow. His eyes were dark – darker than each swig of whiskey from the glass he cradled in his left hand. “So  _ this _ is your newest boy toy, Anthony?” He shook his head, “I’ve got to say, I’m underwhelmed by this one.”

“ _ Don’t _ call him that.” Tony practically growled, his voice taut and his tone a bit deeper.

This was the first time Peter has ever seen Tony and his dad interact. It was shocking – petrifying, really – enough to kill all arousal and compel him to absolute silence. 

Tony was seething, even more than usual, but Howard just laughed, short and belittling, “Of course, you would be more passionate about a slut like this than the company. Predictable as ever, Anthony.”

“Fuck you,” Tony spoke through clenched teeth. 

And from his place at Tony’s side, Peter could tell that the older boy’s knuckles were starting to lose color from how tightly he balled his fists. He could see that Tony was shaking beneath that leather like a boiling pot, brimming with fury and rage. He knew that Howard’s spiteful baiting was bound to make that anger boil over. 

Howard audibly  _ tsk _ ed, downing the remaining whiskey in one large swig. And for a moment, the room was still, filled only with the sound of breath and the tick of a clock, when suddenly, it wasn’t. Howard spiked the glass against the floor. The shattering glass and subsequent splay of shards against tile cut through the lab and shook Peter to his very core. The erratic behavior eroding any doubt Peter held about Howard’s presence; imposing and threatening as it was, like watching a carnivore tear through his dinner. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Howard asked, his voice deep and menacing. 

And Peter thought that would be it. He thought Tony would boil over with anger, yell at his father for speaking to him like that; for acting like that. He thought Tony wouldn’t stand for it.

He was wrong.

“Nothing,” Tony shook his head and grabbed Peter by the wrist, radiating a feeling that Peter knew all too well. The fearsome bad boy was  _ scared _ ; so scared that his hand began to tremble where it gripped; so scared that he started towards the lab doors with Peter in tow. Tony –  _ never lost a fight _ – Stark was so scared that he was choosing flight and that alone was terrifying.

Without so much as a glimpse in his father’s direction, they rushed towards the doors. Nearly there, nearly escaped. Yet, in those few seconds, in those few breaths, in those few strides, Peter learned what made Howard Stark so dangerous.

“Always a coward, just like your mother.”

Tony flinched, his muscles tensing and his grip tightening on Peter’s wrist. “Don’t talk about her like that.” He spoke low, scared but provoked, thrashing in his father’s trap.

“Like what? Like the waste of space she was?” Howard scoffed. “All she did was birth a useless criminal son and left when she couldn’t deal with the pressure of raising you.”

And it was like throwing a grenade into a bonfire.

“She left because of you!” Tony exploded, screaming loud enough to rival the impact of the shattered glass.

_ Slap! _

It was faster than Peter could process but the echo of Howard’s hand connecting with Tony’s cheek rang in his ears. Fear and anger ricocheted through his body like lightning in a bottle; yet, he could do nothing but watch. Watch how quickly Tony was shaken from his anger like a knife whose edge had dulled. Watch how unapologetic Howard was; how sickeningly pleased he was with Tony’s prompt obedience. Watch firsthand just how twisted Tony’s life at home was.

It was silent for a few heartbeats, then Tony gripped Peter’s wrist even harder than before and pulled him out of the lab. Walking with urgency and leaving behind the callous laughter of his father. 

“Tony,” Peter whispered, his fingers feeling prickly as the feeling started to fade from the pressure of Tony’s hold. “Tony, um-” He struggled to speak as he was practically dragged towards the front door. “Tony, my hand, you’re-!” He tried pulling against Tony’s strength but to no avail. So he planted his heels when they reached the foyer and the force of Tony’s momentum caused them both to trip forward. “Tony!”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Tony screamed, grabbing Peter by his upper arm and looking at him with the same frustrated expression that he showed his father. “We need to fucking go!”

Peter’s eyes went wide, a twinge of fear bubbling in his chest before anger overtook it. “You were hurting me!” Peter snapped back, yanking his arm away and marching passed Tony, heading towards the car. 

“I-  _ fuck _ , Peter, I didn’t-” Tony frustratingly ran his hands through his hair, following Peter into the garage. 

“Don’t,” Peter interrupted, raising his palm.

“Why didn’t you just say something?!” Tony yelled, still fuming as he slid into the driver’s seat. 

“I tried too!” Peter yelled back, slamming the car door on his way in and training his eyes out the window, trying to ignore the tension and the dull pain of the bruise on his wrist. “Can you just drive me home?”

Tony inhaled sharp, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“That-!” Tony stopped himself and took a deep breath, finally dropping his tone. “Whatever.”

“Great, now you’re whatever-ing me,” Peter mumbled, crossing his arms and gripping his sides in a self-hug. He could feel his emotions in his throat, shaking and threatening to burst, and as he leaned his head against the window, he bit the inside of his lip to keep them at bay.

“If you don’t want to talk, then we’re not going to talk.”

“I never said that I didn’t want to talk.” Peter sniffled –  _ fuck _ , he thought, as a single tear managed to escape. “I-I just don’t appreciate you t-taking out your anger on me.”

“I’m not!” Tony snapped again.

Peter’s voice was shaky, “T-Then why are you still yelling?”

“Because-!” Tony had a vice grip on the steering wheel, his face a blend of anger and fear and regret. “Because he fucking says shit just to get under my skin and he calls you all these fucked up things and ignores that you’re there and just fucking-” He paused, dropping his forehead against the wheel as well. “I just...”

The sight of Tony struggling made Peter’s heart hurt, but the sound of Tony’s sadness went beyond it. “You just?”

“Nevermind.”

“No, Tones. Don’t do that. Talk to me. I’m-”

“Drop it, Peter.” Tony started the car, ending the conversation like Peter stepped on his toes.

Then, they drove in silence. An awkward and deafening kind of silence – filled with the hum of Tony’s engine and whoosh of the passing scenery – but deafening nonetheless. The peeved energy radiating off of the older boy was familiar but, this time, it wasn’t remedied with silly lip-synced rock ‘n’ roll. No, this was different from those times. Peter couldn’t help but feel tense and, despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the way his body shook beneath that fact.

When they arrived at the apartment, the air in the car was so stifling that stepping out into the evening breeze was jarring. Peter tried on a smile, holding the car door open as he spoke, “Are you still coming in for the dinner thing?”

“No.” Tony kept his response short with his lips pressed in a hard line and his eyes fixed on the windshield. “See you at school tomorrow.”

And Peter parted his lips but no words came. So he shut his mouth and the car door, watching from his place on the curb as Tony drove away. For a short while, he stood there, inhaling deep breaths to stave off the tears, but soon, the patter of rain gave him cause to walk inside. 

The apartment was filled with the savory scent of pizza and the sounds of the evening news. It was warm and bright and there was confetti trailing from the front door to the dining table. Taped to the entryway wall was a sign, printed on multiple sheets of white printer paper, that read ‘ _ Happy 6-Month Extravaganz _ ’ with a sloppy letter ‘A’ scrawled on a sticky note at the end. 

And Peter didn’t know much more his heart could take.

“Hey boys, I ordered pizza! You wouldn’t believe the fight I had with the office copy machine! It was-” As May rounded the corner and saw the look on Peter’s face, she paused. “Oh, Peter, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Peter shook his head. “This all looks great, thanks Aunt May.” He smiled but even he couldn’t deny the feeling of wetness against his cheeks – he blamed the rain.

“How about some pizza?” May gave a small smile, moving to pull the sign down. “We can eat and watch some movies together. How’s that sound?”

“No, I’m- I’m tired and I’ve got- um, homework to finish up,” Peter sniffled, involuntarily using his sleeve to wick away his sadness. “So I’m just going to go to my room. Night May.”

##  **~*~*~**

“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” MJ shook her head, tossing her books into her locker, staring her best friend squarely in the face. “You look like shit.”

And Peter, whose eyes were puffy and whose shoulders were slumped and whose only form of expression came through exasperated sighs, gazed at MJ with tired eyes, “I know.”

“What happened, dude?” Ned questioned, slamming his locker closed and moving to put a comforting hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“A lot,” Peter dropped his forehead against his locker. “A lot happened.”

“Want to talk about it?” MJ offered, her eyes shrouded in sympathy.

Peter sighed, slowly shaking his head, “Not even a little.”

“Well, well, what do we have here?” It was Natasha’s voice, like nails being hammered into Peter’s sanity. “Why so blue? Did your psychotic dog run away?” She laughed, “Maybe for some other twink? Or – what did Loki say? – _ plaything _ , right?”

“Nat, stop,” Clint grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from Peter’s group.

“No,” Natasha resisted, shaking her arm free, a smirk perched on her lips like she was invincible. “Didn’t see Tony with you this morning either. Did he get tired of his bitch?”

“Nat, fucking chill,” Clint whispered under his breath, trying once again to pull her away. “She doesn’t mean it guys. We’re sorry. Come on, Nat!”

“ _ Sorry? _ I’m not fucking  _ sorry. _ ” Natasha scoffed, “Looks like he’s all alone today, maybe we should text Loki, see what he thinks about that.”

“Are you done?” MJ interrupted, glaring at the pair of bullies with her arms crossed.

“Not talking to you,” Natasha sassed, rolling her eyes at MJ. “I’m talking to bitch boy over here.”

Peter inhaled slow, calming the nerves that sat at the back of his mind. “Text them,” He challenged, lifting his forehead from his locker and turning to face Natasha with a bored expression. “Do it. I dare you. Go ahead and see what happens.”

And Natasha, with all of her brazen snark, was taken aback by Peter’s abnormally quick response. “Whatever, you’re not worth my time.” 

“ _ Whatever, you’re not worth my time. _ ” Peter mocked, his face unfazed despite the speed of his anxiously racing heart or the force of his grip on the seam in his pocket. “You’re not worth _ my  _ time, Red.”

“Dude,” Ned held back a laugh, but MJ had no such control; her laughter pulled the attention of curious hallway students, including a guy Peter has never seen before. He was tall and a bit muscular, sporting a denim jacket and staring at Peter with a confidence a bit too reminiscent of Tony’s. It was weird, like locking eyes with a much more smiley and bright version of Tony. Why was this guy staring at him like that anyway? Peter didn’t have the energy to question it; besides, all his attention should be on not getting beat up again.

“Nat, stop fucking around, let’s go,” Clint didn’t give in this time, placing a firm hand in hers and walking away with her in tow.

“Fuck you, bitch. Stark can’t protect you forever!” Natasha’s final words, topped off with a flip of her middle finger, as she disappeared down the hall.

Peter gave a relieved sigh, hand over his heart like he narrowly escaped death, “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Well, don’t,” Ned laughed. “That was fucking awesome, dude. Very Tony Stark of you.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you move up the food chain,” MJ joked. “Suck Tony Stark’s dick for protection one time and the whole school becomes your bitch.”

“We both know he’s sucked that dick more than once,” Ned smirked, bumping his arm against MJ’s.

“Please stop,” Peter rolled his eyes and started towards the lunchroom, “Let’s just go eat.”

MJ laughed, moving to walk beside Peter, “Where  _ is _ Tony today anyway?”

“Yeah, he’s usually at your locker before lunch starts,” Ned added. 

“Like I said,” Peter sighed. “  _ A lot _ happened.”

“Oh, okay, fair enough,” MJ shrugged as they entered the lunchroom. “No further questions.”

“Well, I have a question,” Ned interjected, following behind Peter to the lunch line. “What the fuck are we doing for the break?” He posed the question with urgent eyes. “Because, and I don’t want to alarm anyone, but we have  _ got _ to be the only juniors without spring break plans.” 

“Oh no, not that.” MJ feigned surprise, her eyes bored and her voice monotonous but not even her eye roll could stop Ned’s enthusiasm.

“Oh no is right, MJ! Peter, are your cool friends doing anything?”

“My cool friends?” Peter squinted as he grabbed a tray and moved down the line, unimpressed by the high school food but too exhausted to complain.

MJ snorted, “He means the big buff trio.”

Well, even Peter had to smile at that, “You mean Steve, Sam, and Bucky?”

“MJ, that codename is for private correspondence only,” Ned joked. “But yeah, have they roped you into any plans yet?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged as they exited the line, surveying the lunchroom for Steve’s table and locking eyes with a waving Bucky. “Let’s go ask.”

“What?” Ned’s eyebrows flew upward. “You’re bringing us to sit with Steve Rogers?”

“I guess I am,” Peter gave a small grin. “I’ve got to introduce my cool friends to my new friends eventually, right?”

Ned dramatically gasped, “When did my best friend become so smooth?”

“He was always this smooth,” MJ laughed, following Peter to the table.

“Hey Peter,” Bucky smiled, gesturing to some empty chairs. “And MJ and Ned, right?”

“Yeah,” MJ said as she sat. “Nice to finally meet you guys.”

“Likewise,” Steve said before shooting Peter a skeptical look. “Hey Pete, where’s Tony?”

“Not sure,” Peter clenched his jaw, biting on the inside of his lip to stave off his lingering emotions, preparing himself to make excuses. “He’s probably just skipping today. No big deal.” He waved away any hint of sadness, replacing it instead with an over-enthused – and clearly forced – smile. “Anyway, we were talking about spring break, right Ned?”

“Right,” Ned said, blinking a few times before shaking his head. “Right!” He dropped his hands against the lunch table, pulling everyone’s attention – leave it to him to always have Peter’s back. “Spring break is next week, guys. Do you have any plans?”

“Well, me and the guys usually visit my family’s beach house,” Steve answered.

“How big is the house?” MJ asked.

“Oh, the house is huge,” Bucky assured. “If people doubled up in the beds, it could probably sleep like twelve people.”

“Did you guys want to come with us?” Steve offered. “We could make it a party. Tony could bring his friends too. What do you think, Pete?”

Peter was distracted, idly pushing food around his lunch tray and staring into the abyss of students. His mind wandered through yesterday’s events, silently wishing they never happened. He wondered where Tony was; where Tony had been all morning. It was like him to skip classes but never lunch. It was the only school period they shared. What was happening?

“Peter!” MJ snapped him from his thoughts. “You there?”

“O-Oh, what? Sorry, um- what were you-?”

“Spring break party at Steve’s beach house with all of us and Tony’s crew?” MJ summarized. “That sound good?”

“Yeah, probably,” Peter nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great, then I’ll ask my parents if we can use the house and let you guys know what they say on Friday.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Ned excitedly said.

And the conversation went from there. Planning about what food to bring, what alcohol was the best, what games they would play. Some great mingling between mutual friends that Peter was barely present for. He was so in his own head that he didn’t realize who was approaching the table.

“Hey.”

Peter lifted his head, surprised to find that the voice belonged to the guy from the hallway, who was pulling up a chair to sit beside him. “Um...hey?”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Definitely not  _ kid _ .” Peter raised his eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

The guy laughed, “My name’s Quentin – Quentin Beck – and I saw you, in the hallway, telling that girl off and I knew I needed to introduce myself.”

“Wait.  _ That girl? _ ” MJ interrupted, looking just as confused as the rest of the table. “You don’t know who Natasha Romanoff is? Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m new here. Just transferred today. Nice to meet you guys,” Quentin was courteous, making eye contact with each person at the table before focusing his attention solely on Peter. “Especially you, kid.”

“Peter,” He introduced himself, feeling a bit uneasy with the unfamiliar attention.

“It suits you,” Quentin gave a bright smile. “Your shirt is also pretty funny.”

Peter furrowed his brow, so unsure about what shirt he threw on today that he had to glance down. Peaking between his unbuttoned plaid shirt was his ‘ _ if you believe in telekinesis, please raise my hand _ ’ t-shirt. A classic. Peter let out a light huff of breath that ended in the smallest of smiles, “Thanks. It’s actually my favorite one.”

Quentin gave a small laugh of his own, looking at Peter with adoration, “Suddenly, it’s my favorite too.”

“U-Um...you look good too,” Peter clumsily reciprocated. “I mean, your jacket is really cool.”

“You’re really cool,” Quentin shot back with a grin.

“O-kay!” Ned loudly interrupted, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get back to the spring break plans.”

“Agreed,” MJ nodded, staring at Peter with the strongest  _ what-the-fuck-are-you-doing _ look. “Peter, do you think  _ your boyfriend _ would mind driving?”

“ _ Boy _ friend, huh?” Quentin smirked, not looking away from Peter for even a second. “Glad to know we’re teammates, Peter.”

The line made Sam and Bucky burst into laughter. “Steve, you need to take some notes,” Bucky joked, smiling at Steve, who laughed as well.

“And you better be careful, new kid,” Sam warned, pointing towards the cafeteria doors. “Tony is literally coming this way.”

Peter perked up, surprised to see Tony sauntering towards them. The bad boy’s presence brought the lunchroom to a grinding halt and only when he made it to Peter’s table, did it resume. 

“Move,” Tony spoke directly to Quentin.

“Um...no,” Quentin snorted, seemingly unbothered. “Don’t be a dick. Just get another chair. I’m talking to Peter.”

Everyone, even Peter, was stunned by Quentin’s blind confidence. Tony, however, was immediately set off. “ _ The fuck? _ ” Tony cursed as he grabbed Quentin by the jacket collar and effortlessly yanked him up from the chair. “It wasn’t a fucking question.”

“T-Tony! Stop,” Peter promptly stood, pulling Tony’s hand away from the denim. “He didn’t mean it.”

“What?” Tony gave Peter an incredulous look. “Who the fuck is this guy to you?” He moved forward, shoving Quentin back a step. It was all the cafeteria crowd needed to be fully tuned in. Enraptured by the actions of the notorious bad boy and what seemed to be his latest target: a very confused Quentin Beck. A second shove had people whispering, but a third had them outright rowdy with their phones primed to spread the brawl to everyone in the school.

“Tony,  _ stop it _ !” Peter snapped, his voice low but serious, immediately compelling Tony’s focus. “Hallway,” He demanded before walking off.

Tony  _ tsk _ ed but followed with his hands shoved in his pockets and anger lingering his eyes. All the way to the empty hallway, where Peter now stood, arms crossed and disappointed, “What is going on with you?”

“Who the fuck was that?” Tony fumed.

“Nobod- wait, no, I-I’m asking the questions,” Peter stressed. “Why are you so on edge?”

“You know why.”

“Actually, no. I really don’t.” Peter pointed out. “You told me to  _ drop it _ , remember.”

“Not that- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Tony let out a frustrated sigh.

“Then what  _ did _ you mean, Tony? Because skipping out on dinner really sends a clear message.” Peter could feel a sting in his eyes. “I’m so confused and  _ hurt _ and I was looking for you all day today and you finally show up but you’re not even here for me. You just came to cause trouble, didn’t you?”

“No, Peter, that’s-” Tony stepped forward, grabbing Peter’s hand. “I  _ am _ here for you. I only ever come to this fucking place for you.” He shook his head, “I didn’t want to fight, I just- Why would you even think that?”

Without warning, the lunchroom doors swung open and Quentin emerged, “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?”

“Yes!” Tony yelled, in sync with Peter’s very annoyed, “No.”

Peter pulled his hand from Tony’s, “Did you need something, Quentin?”

“Oh, um- I just wanted to say sorry for what I said in there,” Quentin seemed apologetic, looking at Tony with remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t realize that you were Peter’s boyfriend. I overstepped. Sorry, man.”

It appeared a sincere apology, but Tony remained silent.

“Tony, he’s  _ apologizing _ ,” Peter emphasized.

“So?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter whispered, shaking his head and moving towards the lunchroom doors. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Skip the rest of the day for all I care.”

And Tony did just that.

##  **~*~*~**

When Peter said skip all day, he didn’t think Tony actually would. He was convinced that, despite the tension, his boyfriend would follow their normal routine. On a regular day, Tony would be there within minutes of the buses leaving, ready to drive him home. So Peter stood outside the school, hopefully waiting for his boyfriend to pick him up. Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the school became emptier, Peter realized that Tony wasn’t coming.

Left with no choice, Peter started the walk home, just as he’d done countless times before; trekked the three miles whenever the weather was nice or he missed the bus. After all, getting driven around by his boyfriend every day would make him lazy. There was no harm in putting feet to the concrete, exercising his legs, inhaling some fresh air. No, the harm started after the first two blocks, when the sky decided on rain and not just any rain – no, this was  _ soak-through-a-backpack _ ,  _ fuck-you-Peter _ kind of rain.

And Peter nearly screamed, his frustrations pooling as he dashed to take shelter beneath a storefront awning. In the cover, he dropped his head into his palms, convinced that the universe hated him. He didn’t have an umbrella, he didn’t have anyone to pick him up, and no matter how much optimism he tried to muster, he knew an hour-long walk in the pouring rain would break him.

_ Beep! _

A car horn close enough to Tony’s that Peter’s whole body experienced a wave of happiness but, as he lifted his head, the wave dissipated. The car wasn’t Tony’s or MJ’s or Steve’s. Just an ordinary sedan that he was set to ignore, but then, the windows rolled down.

“Well, if it isn’t Tony Stark’s plaything.” It was Loki, parking the car against the curb and stepping out into the rain with vengeance in his eyes. “Where’s Stark?”

_ Shit. _ Peter tensed, “Fuck off, Loki. Tony’s on his way.” A bold-faced lie – one he wished were true; one he hoped appeared as true.

“Is he?” Loki smirked deviously, moving closer and closer to Peter, “You see, I received a quite interesting text from Natasha today.” He cracked his knuckles, “What was it you said to me that night?  _ Touch me again and I’ll have him break the other one _ ?” He recalled, standing inches away from Peter. “Now, that only works if you actually have a  _ him _ , doesn’t it?”

_ Yeah, the universe definitely hates me. _ Peter thought, inhaling sharply as regret seeped through his body and he backed against the brick of the storefront. The very thing he tried so hard to contain swarming to the surface: fear. “Don’t come near me! T-Tony will find out! H-He’ll know, he-”

“There’s the Parker I know,” Loki smirked, grabbing Peter by his collar, “Once a scared little bitch,  _ always _ a scared little bitch.” He gave a dark laugh as he slammed Peter against the brick with one hand. The other winding into a fist and poised to deliver a punch.

And Peter closed his eyes, relaxed his jaw, and prepared for the inevitable, a pit in his stomach from knowing Tony wouldn’t be saving him. He wanted to cry.

“Hey! Get off of him!” 

A perfectly timed interruption that stopped Loki in his tracks and filled Peter with a thankful relief. It was Quentin, emerging from an expensive, tinted-windowed sports car and bolting towards them without hesitation. With his fists balled and ready to defend, he promptly stepped between them, shoving Loki back a few steps.

Quentin’s serious eyes were striking, especially when paired with that confident grin and the way he hovered his fists like a trained fighter squares up for a brawl. Or the way he pulled off that denim jacket and draped it over Peter’s head like he was protecting something important. Or the way he so reassuringly affirmed that Peter would be fine,  _ so hold this for me, kid. I’ll handle this. _

And Peter would be lying if he said it didn’t remind him of Tony.

However, what happened next was nothing like the notorious bad boy. Quentin wasn’t a violent fighter. Though Peter appreciated the protection, the way Quentin fought was boring. He didn’t seem to enjoy the conflict – in fact, he only threw punches when Loki threw them. He was clearly trained but instead of a self-serving show of brutality, he leaned toward ending it as cleanly as possible. In the end, Loki stopped the fight. Not because he was dazed or bruised or bloody, but because Quentin’s resolve was stronger.

And much like Natasha, Loki left Peter with a warning before driving off. “Sooner or later, you’ll run out of assholes to protect you, Parker. And you and I both know that a scared little bitch like you can’t protect yourself.”

Quentin exhaled, winded from the fight and thoroughly soaked with rain, but smiling bright nonetheless. “Hey, Peter! Do you need a ride somewhere?”

Maybe the universe didn’t hate him after all. “Y-Yes!” Peter spared no time in rushing to Quentin’s car and following him inside. “You’re a lifesaver, Quentin.” He said as he shed his wet clothes, denim jacket first, plaid long sleeve second.

“Beck.”

“Hm?”

“My good friends call me Beck.” Quentin smiled, slicking his wet hair away from his forehead.

“Oh,” Peter nodded. “Beck, then. ” He sighed, leaning back against the seat, thankful for the heat pumping through its vents. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“No need to thank me. I’m just glad I showed up when I did,” Quentin gestured to Peter’s wrist. “Before he could do anything else.”

Peter flinched, covering his bruised wrist like he was caught doing something wrong, “This was- um...yeah, I’m glad too.”

Quentin furrowed his brow, “Who was that anyway? And that Natasha girl too?”

“That was Loki,” Peter sighed, “They’re my...  _ enemies _ , I guess?”

“Enemies?” Quentin gave a soft laugh, “That’s pretty intense. What’d they do?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“No, I don’t like getting too much into it,” Peter shook his head. “I was duped and Tony helped me. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Tony helped you, huh?” Quentin repeated, clearly annoyed. “Then where was he just now?”

“He was just busy today.” Peter was making excuses. Again.

“Too busy to protect his boyfriend?” Quentin scoffed. “If you were my boyfriend, I would protect you all the time. No matter what, even if we had some stupid argument at school.”

Peter’s eyes went wide at Quentin’s sentiment, “We weren’t arguing. We were just-”

“I’m not blind, Peter,” Quentin interrupted. “I heard you both fighting in the hall. Tony seems quick to anger and, honestly, you don’t deserve that.”

Peter crossed his arms and stared out the window, “And how do  _ you _ know what I deserve?”

“I don’t, but I know you don’t deserve a guy that would leave you stranded in the rain.” Quentin sighed, “Look, I can tell you’re upset, so I’ll drop it for now, but at least think about what I said, okay?”

Peter glanced over to Quentin, whose eyes seemed so genuine that he felt bad for being annoyed. “Okay,” He nodded, relaxing his arms, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so peeved. “Um...so, your car is... nice.”

“Thank you. It belongs to my parents,” Quentin gave a bashful laugh. “I couldn’t find my bus stop this morning and when I finally got there, I missed the bus so I took the car.”

“Without telling them?” Peter rose his brow.

“Without telling them,” Quentin slowly repeated with a grin. “I’m definitely going to be in some deep shit so let’s enjoy it while it lasts.” He pressed a button to the right of the gearshift, “Seat warmers,” He said as he pressed another button, switching on the radio and filling the car with the low hum of rock music. “Surround sound and–” Another button. “Self-driving navigation. Put your address in and we’re all set.”

“Wow, this is my first time in one of these,” Peter mentioned as he inputted his address on the touch screen. “There. Did that work?”

“Perfectly.” Quentin nodded as he started the ride and the car pulled away from the curb. “Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy your warmed butt. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Peter almost laughed at that one –  _ almost  _ – instead, he took the advice. He relaxed, soaking in the warmth and peacefully listening to the radio mixed with the pitter-patter of the rain. But then an AC/DC track played. “Can we skip this one?”

“Not in a ‘Shoot to Thrill’ kind of mood?” Quentin asked as he skipped the song.

Peter shook his head, leaning forward slightly, “It’s not that...it’s other stuff.”

“Does this  _ other stuff _ wear leather and have a surprisingly high grip strength?”

“Yeah,” Peter nodded, “By the way, sorry he did that to you.”

“No worries,” Quentin shook his head. “Let’s not talk about him. I want to know more about the kid, Peter Parker.” 

“I am not a kid,” Peter lightheartedly complained. “We’re probably like one year apart.”

“I know but you get so worked up over it,” Quentin grinned. “I can’t help it.”

Peter sighed but smiled, “Fine, what do you want to know?”

Quentin beamed, “Do you have any hobbies?”

“Comics, I guess,” Peter answered. “I have a collection up in my room.”

Quentin gasped, “Can I come in and see it?”

“Sure, I guess.”

And when they arrived at Peter's apartment and ventured into his room, talking about comic books turned to playing video games for a few hours. And that turned to homework together and raiding the fridge for snacks. Chats about sharing interests turned to lending comic books, which very quickly turned to  _ hey, Beck, do you want to come on our spring break trip? _ Somehow, it all turned Peter’s awful day into something a little brighter.

“Thanks for hanging out today, Beck,” Peter flashed a quick smile, leaning against the door frame.

Quentin smirked, “And thank you for the comic book. I promise to bring it back with all its pages and exactly one unidentifiable snack stain.”

Peter laughed, an honest laugh, “Sounds good.”

“Wow,” Quentin smiled, moving his hand to gently tilt Peter’s chin upward, “Your laugh is really cute, Peter.”

“W-What?” Peter blushed – _what the fuck?_ _blushed?_ – he pulled away, quickly laughing it off like one big joke. “My laugh is actually quite manly.”

“Anything you say, kid.” Quentin gave Peter one last smile before turning to head down the hall. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you!” And as he closed the apartment door, Peter scoffed but there was no denying the smile on his face; no denying that Quentin’s company had cheered him up.

Just as Peter turned to head to his room, the door opened again. It was May, “Hey Peter, who was that boy in the hall?”

“His name’s Quentin,” Peter answered. “He gave me a ride home today.”

“He was here until now?” May glanced at her watch. “It’s past seven. What about Tony?”

Right.  _ Tony. _

Peter sighed, the flurry of negative emotions washing back over him at the mere mention of his boyfriend’s name. “What _ about _ Tony?” He mumbled, stalking into his room like the moody teenager he was.

##  **~*~*~**

The next morning was just as rough as the last but, at least, the sun was up today. Peter rode the bus to school, thankful that the ride was quiet despite the rumors that were starting to brew. According to a very frantic text from Ned this morning, students were starting to gossip about his relationship. The question at the center of speculation:  _ are Tony and Peter breaking up? _ And it hurt to not know if that speculation was justified. After all, they had been arguing a lot and tensions were high.

Peter sighed as he stepped off the bus, ready to resign himself to another day of sadness, but then a voice called out to him that made his chest feel tight.

“Peter!” It was Tony, leaning against his car in the parking lot, smoking and gesturing for Peter to join him. He seemed less angry today, less brooding. The sight filled Peter with joy, but he was reluctant to show it. He was still upset. He was still confused. He was still hurt, but none of that could stop his feet from carrying him across the lot. “What?” He asked, crossing his arms, keeping his eyes on the pavement.

“I want to talk,” Tony said, flicking his cigarette away. “Can we?”

“You ditched me yesterday,” Peter whispered, unsure why his hands started to tremble in his pockets. “It was raining and I had to walk and-”

“ _ You _ told me to skip,” Tony interrupted. “Why didn’t you take the bus?”

“Because I didn’t think you would listen to me,” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “I waited for you.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” Tony let out a frustrated huff of breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

Peter bit the inside of his lip and turned on his heel, “If I’m bothering you, then we can just-”

“Wait, no!” Tony reached out, grabbing Peter by his wrist.

The same bruised wrist as before. Peter flinched at the contact, inhaling sharp through his teeth as a dull pain erupted up his forearm. “L-Let go!”

Tony’s eyes went wide, releasing his grip immediately. “Sorry! I’m sorry, baby, I forgot-”

“How could you forget something that  _ you _ did!?” Peter snapped, clasping his bruised wrist in his hand, holding it to his chest. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Peter,” Tony’s voice was unsteady, frantic, worried. He reached out again, a gentle hand in Peter’s, but the younger boy just yanked it away.

“Don’t touch me.” 

Tony paused, slowly closing his hand and stuffing it into his pocket. “Okay, but please, baby, just talk to me, I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Peter shook his head, once again starting towards the building.

Tony followed, keeping his hands to himself but unrelenting in his pleads. “Please. I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, baby, just stay and talk to me.”

“Stop calling me that,” Peter fumed, irritation dripping from every word. 

Tony jogged forward, stepping in front of Peter to halt his strides. “Okay,  _ okay _ , but I really just want to talk. I want to fix this, I-”

“I told you no,” Peter repeated, stepping around Tony without even looking him in the eye. “The bell is going to ring soon. I have class.”

“Peter,” Tony reached out again, grabbing almost desperately at Peter’s hand.

“I told you not to touch me!”

“I don’t know what else to do-!”

“Is there a problem here?” All of sudden, there was Quentin, fearlessly interjecting with one hand pushing against Tony’s chest and the other hovering in front of Peter in protection. His shoulders rigid and his body braced for a clash more intense than their last.

Tony scowled, his eyes cast in a dark and threatening glare, “Move the hand before I break it.”

“He told you not to touch him.” Quentin challenged, ignoring the warning and shoving his hand harder against Tony’s chest.

And Peter watched with a sinking feeling as Tony grabbed Quentin’s wrist and fingers like he was leveraging to snap the bone. “Tony, don’t!” He yelled, louder than he has in a while and Tony must have taken notice because he released Quentin without question.

But then Quentin scoffed, putting two and two together, “You’re the one that fucked up Peter’s wrist, aren’t you?” He laughed low, his tone unsurprised, “And you left him in the rain to get beat up?”

“What?” Tony squinted, “What the fuck is he talking about, Peter?”

Peter shook his head, panicking, “Quentin, stop, you don’t have to-”

“No, he should know that because of him, you almost got the shit kicked out of you by that Loki guy.” Quentin asserted. “I’m glad I was there to take you home.”

“He took you home?” Tony’s voice went stagnant, coasting somewhere dark that had Peter struggling to find the words to respond.

“Yeah, I did,” Quentin boasted. “I was there to protect him, to spend time with him, to get his mind off all the stress  _ you _ put him through.” He said, stepping back and throwing his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “So, don’t worry, I’ll be taking him again today.”

Peter froze, staring into Tony’s eyes and feeling a swarm of guilt in his stomach, “I didn’t- um, Tony, we didn’t do anything-” He pulled away from Quentin, “It was just-”

“Was he in your room?” Tony asked, tone unchanging.

“Yes, but-”

Tony closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through clenched teeth as his hands balled into fists. Anger was radiating off of him, billowing into the air and making it hard for Peter to breathe. Yet, as Tony opened his eyes, his fists relaxed and his fury seemed to wane as he brought his hand up slowly, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair, “ _ I’m _ taking you home today.”

And Peter understood that it wasn’t a question.

“Okay.”

##  **~*~*~**

After school, the tension had grown beyond control, especially now, as the spring break group convened for a quick meeting – meaning Steve, Sam, Bucky, MJ, Ned, and Tony were hit with the surprise of Quentin’s invitation all at once. To make things worse, the sheer pressure emanating from Tony was making the atmosphere unbearable.

“So,” Steve began, smiling at the group despite the clear unease. “I’ve got good news.”

“We got permission to use the beach house!” Bucky blurted out, beating Steve to the punch.

“Steve’s parents said we can have it for the week.” Sam added, “Monday through Friday.”

“Like they said,” Steve shook his head, playfully putting his hands over their mouths. “Before I was so rudely interrupted. We got the okay from my folks.”

“Yes!” Ned exclaimed, shaking Peter by the shoulders, probably trying to relax the mood. “Spring break!”

Steve laughed at Ned’s enthusiasm, “Is he always like this?”

“Always,” MJ assured. “So is everyone clear with what they’re bringing?”

“We’ll handle the drinks,” Bucky gestured to Sam, Steve, and himself.

“MJ, Peter, and I will get the food.” Ned gave a thumbs up. “But someone else needs to get stuff to light the grill.”

“I can handle that,” Quentin offered.

“Perfect,” Steve nodded. “Tony, you’re friends are good with getting the music set up and the games, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony shrugged. “Happy’s bringing his car.”

“I’m bringing mine,” MJ added.

“Me too,” Quentin and Tony said in unison, only adding to the tension nagging at Peter’s insides.

“Having four cars is perfect,” Ned interjected, laughing awkwardly. “Everyone will have legroom.”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve smiled, waving to everyone as they dispersed. “See you all on Monday!”

No one lingered – not that Peter blamed them – the conversation was strained and uncomfortable. He was relieved that Quentin didn’t start something as they exited the school. Maybe it was because Tony was so silent and Quentin wasn’t the type to start a fight on his own. The walk to the parking lot was quiet, even quieter was the drive to Peter’s apartment. Another awkwardly silent drive with Tony’s unease imposed on the atmosphere.

As Tony parked the car against the curb, Peter opened the door before saying, “Do you want to come in?”

“No,” Tony said, keeping his car running and his hands on the wheel.

“We should talk now, Tones,” Peter closed the door. “I’m sorry about what Quentin said.”

“Which part?” Tony stressed. “The part about Loki, or that he brought you home, or maybe that he was  _ in your fucking room _ ?” His voice got louder and louder with each word.

Peter’s voice caught in his throat, “W-We didn’t do anything.” 

“How long was he there?”

“I don’t know...until May got back,” Peter shrugged. “We just played video games and did homework. I lent him a book,” His hands were starting to tremble again. He hated it. “He’s my friend.”

“Sure, a  _ friend _ ,” Tony scoffed.

“What are you trying to say?”

“You let him touch you,” Tony seethed. “You couldn’t stand me touching you but you didn’t seem to care when it was him. What the fuck happened to  _ I’m yours, but you’re mine too _ , huh?”

“Nothing happened to it!” Peter was starting to panic. All of their conversations had spiraled out of control, escalated beyond what they should have been, and this one was no different. “I was just upset with you and he was nice to me so I didn’t think about it. I didn’t mean to-”

“I wanted to end this shit today.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, so scared by the vagueness in those words that his whole frame began to shake. “W-What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Tony shook his head. “Get out of my car.”

“What?”

“I said get out.”

“Tony.” That came out more pitifully than Peter wanted and –  _ oh no _ – his vision began to blur behind tears. “I don’t like him,” His voice was distorted and breathy and on the verge of sobs, but somehow, that didn’t stop him from getting angry. “You’re the one that started this!” He yelled, looking up to combat his tears. “You’re the one that got mad first! I was trying to talk to you about your dad and you-”

“I don’t want to talk about him!” Tony snapped, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Why don’t you get that? Why can't you just fucking let it go?!”

“Because he hit you, Tony!” Peter snapped back. “He hit you and I couldn’t do anything and I could tell you were scared and that-”

“Peter, stop! Just fucking stop!” Tony dropped his face into his hands. “This isn’t something you should worry about.”

“Tony, I’m your  _ boyfriend _ ,” Peter stressed, wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. “How can I not worry? It happened in front of me and I-”

“Can you just get out?” Tony lifted his head, his expression was blank but his eyes were wet, so clearly filled with tears of his own.

“But Tony, I-”

“Peter, I’m serious, get the fuck out of my car.”

“If that’s what you want then fine!” Peter fumed, throwing open the car door and stepping out. “Be that way!” He yelled before slamming the door shut and turning towards his building, not bothering to glance back, even when the roar of Tony’s engine disappeared down the street.

As he ambled into his building and up the stairs, Peter wondered if this was what it felt like to be at his wits’ end; to feel utterly crushed by the weight of his emotions; to feel his heartache and be at a loss when trying to fix it. He stepped into the apartment, surprised to see May’s shoes by the door and hear her bright greeting. Right, it was the weekend, she was home earlier than usual. 

“Peter!” May was stunned when she laid eyes on her nephew, rushing over to pull him into a hug. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Peter started to break down. “Things just keep getting worse and we keep arguing and I-” He sobbed, “I don’t know what to do!” And the tears he so viciously tried holding back fell freely and he was hopeless against them. 

“Okay, calm down,” May rubbed gentle circles into Peter’s back. “Come sit down,” She said as she guided him to the couch, where he continued to cry. Where he continued to weep as she headed into the kitchen and prepared two cups of tea. Continued to sob as she grabbed a box of tissues from the linen closet and calmly sat, waiting for the tears to run dry. And once they did, she finally spoke, “Now, explain.”

“Tony hates me,” Peter’s voice was hoarse. “All we’ve been doing is fighting with each other and Quentin made it worse.”

“The boy from the hall?”

“Yeah,” Peter sniffled. “He’s my friend but Tony thinks I like him and we’re fighting about that too now.” He sighed, taking a sip of tea before continuing, “And everyone’s going on that trip to Steve’s family’s beach house. And it’s just going to be the worst, Aunt May.”

“What were you fighting about before Quentin?”

“I-” Peter hesitated, “It was something that happened at Tony’s house.”

“And what happened?”

“Something bad,” Peter mumbled, placing his mug on the coffee table.

“I’m listening.”


	2. Whetstone

With the sheen of the morning sun and the general lack of partygoers and trash in the front lawn, Steve’s house was actually much nicer than Peter remembered. A proper dose of suburbia, complete with a neutral color palette and a brick mailbox. In the driveway, Steve, Sam, Happy, and Rhodey were packing the cars. Pepper, Bruce, and Bucky were chatting on the porch, while Tony was parked near the curb, leaning against his car with a cigarette perched between his lips. As for Quentin, he hadn’t arrived yet and, for that, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. 

As MJ parked her car and went to join the group on the porch, Ned and Peter hopped out to help move the groceries into coolers, grabbing handfuls of bags from the trunk and walking them up the driveway.

“Hey, Peter,” Rhodey greeted, a friendly smile on his face as he took the bags. “Thanks for inviting us to this.”

“Of course,” Peter nodded, trying on a smile of his own, hoping it came off as genuine. “You guys are Tony’s friends.”

“Speaking of Tony,” Rhodey handed the groceries off to Happy and ushered Peter away from prying ears, whispering a wary, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two but Tony is  _ really _ beaten up about it.”

Peter’s fake smile dropped into a concerned frown as he stole a glance at the brooding bad boy. “Did he say anything?”

“It’s less of what he  _ did _ say and more so what he  _ didn’t _ ,” Rhodey crossed his arms. “He’s been working on Jarvis non-stop, like no sleep, no talking, no nothing for the entire weekend. The last time he was like this was when Pepper dumped him. So, as his friend, I’m asking: did you dump him?”

“No,” Peter answered without hesitation, shaking his head, eyes widening in worry, “Does that mean he’s... is Tony dumping  _ me _ ?” He whispered, his heart beginning to race as he nervously gripped at the bottom hem of his shirt.

“No, no way!” Rhodey shook his head, lightly laughing, “He would  _ never _ . Not with the way he talks about you.” He placed a reassuring hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“What do you mean? He talks about me?”

“All the fucking time,” Rhodey explained. “He literally won’t shut up about you. So when he just stopped, I got worried,” He shrugged, gesturing over to Tony. “So can you go talk to him? See if you can stop him from being so angsty. Try to keep him from sucking the life out of the air.”

“I don’t know,” Peter sighed, shaking his head, “Talking has  _ not _ gone well for us and I don’t want to start a fight, especially when everyone is trying to have a good time.” 

“I see,” Rhodey nodded, eyebrows furrowing in thought before flashing a bright smile. “Then, if talking doesn’t work, just go over there and hug him or something. I’m sure that’ll work.”

“Wait, w-what?” Peter asked but Rhodey was already urging him towards the sidewalk, guiding him by the shoulders down the driveway, leaving him to take the final steps.

Peter hadn’t seen Tony all weekend; it was the first time that’s happened since they started dating. The older boy was wearing a black tank top, his arms exposed and crossed. Only moving them to toss the cigarette that was nothing but its yellow end. The sunglasses he wore were tinted so dark that Peter couldn’t see his eyes, but he guessed, by his relaxed chin and still face, that his eyes were expressionless.

“Hi,” Peter whispered, standing a couple of strides away, idly twiddling his fingers.

“Hey,” Tony’s voice sounded deeper than usual but Peter couldn’t tell why – if only he could see his eyes.

Peter gestured to the sunglasses, “Can you- um… take those off? Please.” 

“Why?” 

“Just because,” Peter mumbled, stepping towards his boyfriend with caution. Standing a mere inch away, close enough to inhale the lingering cigarette smoke and feel the heat of Tony’s body. “That okay?” He asked, eyes gentle and pleading.

Tony clenched his jaw, grumbling a short, “Whatever.”

Peter reached up, gently tugging the frames away from Tony’s eyes and frowning when he saw how red and puffy they were. The sight was heartbreakingly relatable. Over the weekend, Peter had cried in waves; tearing up at the thought of their arguments, or the bruise on his wrists, or the memories of their happier moments. He managed to hold back his emotions this morning because he had MJ and Ned to distract him but the state of Tony’s eyes had him biting the inside of his lip. He inhaled slowly, willing the emotions away and asking a careful, “Were you crying?”

“No,” Tony lied – blatantly lied – and didn’t bother coming up with an excuse either.

So Peter didn’t bring it up. Instead, he opened his arms and dropped his body against Tony’s, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s torso. It just felt right, even more so when Tony reciprocated. The hug was a wordless comfort; an apology through touch; a feeling of mutual understanding. An agreement to put it all aside; to enjoy their now and fix it later. Yes, they fought –  _ yes _ , they were fighting – but this hug meant they still felt for each other and that made all the difference.

Peter nuzzled his face against Tony’s chest, relishing in the familiar comfort before gazing up at him, “Can we ride to the beach alone together?”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered, kissing Peter’s forehead and bringing a hand up to cup his face, using his thumb to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Peter gave a solemn smile, “Me too.”

“Okay, lovebirds, that’s enough. We’re not done packing the cars yet. You can fuck each other later.” Rhodey interrupted, making the group burst into laughter.

And Tony laughed too, letting Peter put the sunglasses back before turning to Rhodey with a smile on his face. “Anything you say, Platypus.”

After that, the tension seemed to dissipate. Tony’s friends and Peter’s friends were peacefully mingling with each other, chatting and working to pack the cars. Everything was relaxed and fun and, for a brief yet amazing moment, stress free. 

Then Quentin showed up.

“Hey guys!” He waved, stepping out of his car to introduce himself to Tony’s friends. He was bleeding charisma, managing to get some laughs as he helped put the remainder of supplies in his trunk before walking over to Peter.

“Hey, kid,” Quentin playfully smiled, throwing an arm across Peter’s shoulders like it was second nature. “How are you doing today? Is he giving you any trouble?” He asked, gesturing to Tony, who was visibly tense and scowling at Quentin like he was the scum of the earth.

“No,” Peter shook his head, awkwardly pulling away from Quentin’s hold and stepping closer to Tony.

Quentin audibly  _ tsk _ ed, “Of course you would say that with him standing there.”

Tony flinched at that, briefly clenching his fist before taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ll be in the car.” He said, turning and walking towards his car

“Tones, wai-” Peter called out, being promptly cut off by the slam of the car door before turning his attention back to Quentin. “Honestly, Beck, you don’t have to worry about it. Me and Tony are just working through some stuff.”

Quentin sighed, “I get that but – I don’t know, Peter – he just seems dangerous. I’m worried that you’ll get hurt again.”

“I appreciate it but Tony isn’t dangerous,” Peter assured. “He’s more complex than that.”

“Fine but, at least, would you ride with me to the beach?” Quentin asked, grabbing Peter’s hand. “It will give me some peace of mind to know you’re safe.”

Peter quickly pulled his hand away, shrugging, “Sorry, Beck, I can’t. I already said I would ride with Tony and, like I said, he isn’t dangerous. I’ll be completely fine.”

Quentin clenched his teeth, “But you-”

“Okay everyone!” Steve interrupted. “We’re all set to go. Let’s try and get there before the sun goes down.”

With that, everyone piled into the cars, ready to road trip. Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Ned rode in MJ’s car and, naturally, Happy took Rhodey, Pepper, and Bruce. Peter was the only one left but his choice was made. Although he felt bad for leaving Quentin by himself, he would ride with Tony. 

So Peter jumped into the passenger seat, warying at first that Quentin’s words had stoked a flame but happy to see Tony calmly selecting music. He smiled, soaking in the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes, glad to be in Tony’s car without an argument brewing. Sounds of the whirring engine and the passing scenery were not as nerve-wracking with the gentle hum of his boyfriend’s singing. The moment was soothing and the temporary peace was the exact kind of comfort Peter needed. He was grateful. He really,  _ really _ was – but he also wasn’t.

“Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m still upset,” Peter whispered. “It’s not going away.”

Tony nodded, breathing a deep sigh, “Yeah, me too.”

##  **~*~*~**

“Peter, wake up, we’re here.”

Peter roused from his slumber, lifting his head off the window and wiping a drop of drool from the corner of his mouth. He stretched, glancing at Tony as the car came to a stop in the driveway. “We’re here? How long was I asleep?”

“The whole ride,” Tony laughed as he pulled the keys from the ignition and reached across to fetch his cigarettes from the glove compartment.

“Oh,” Peter flashed an apologetic look. “Sorry, I should’ve stayed up to keep you company.”

“I didn’t mind. You’re cute when you snore, bab- uh... I mean, Peter.” Tony stumbled on his words, shaking his head as he exited the car.

And despite the awkward correction, those words were enough to make Peter’s face go warm, tinted pink in the evening sun as he stepped out of the car and into the sea-salted air. 

The beach house was gorgeous with its glass-enclosed sun room, its soft pastel tones, and its large stilts to protect from the tides. The deck was well equipped with a fire pit, some lounge chairs, a grill, and stairs that led directly to the beach, which was by far the best part. The sand was picturesque – a perk of being on a privately maintained beach – and the water was a mesmerizing blue, at least in the orange hue of the budding sunset.

“Steve, this place is amazing!” Ned exclaimed as he ran up the front steps. “Let's hurry and swim before it gets dark!”

Peter laughed to himself as the group seemed to mobilize around that sentiment; unloading the cars in less time than it took to pack them and promptly settling sleeping arrangements. Naturally, Steve, Sam, and Bucky took the master bedroom, disappearing in there without question. Ned, Bruce, Rhodey, and Happy stole a room with two double beds, boasting about their en suite bathroom. As for the remaining three rooms, MJ and Pepper claimed one with a view of the beach, Quentin took the smallest one at the end of the hall, and Tony and Peter settled for the room with one window.

“This place is really nice,” Peter made small talk as he laid his suitcase against the floor of their room, unzipping it to unpack his things. 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, tossing his duffel bag to the floor before sitting against the edge of the bed. An uncomfortable silence washed over the atmosphere. The only sounds were the rustle of Peter’s bag and the whoosh of waves from beyond the window.

“Hey.” Tony broke the silence.

“Hm?” Peter turned towards his boyfriend, surprised to find an outstretched hand beckoning him to the bed. He didn’t question it. He simply made his way over, taking a seat next to Tony and glancing at him out the corner of his eye.

Without warning, the older boy clasped his hand in Peter’s, squeezing gently, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter breathed out, keeping his words scarce, fearful that more would cause their interaction to spiral. 

For a few long minutes, Tony just held Peter’s hand, idly dragging his thumb back and forth, caressing the younger boy’s skin. Then, he skimmed his hand down towards Peter’s wrist, brushing his fingertips against the tender bruise before whispering, “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” Peter assured, turning his head to be kissed but blushing when he realized what his boyfriend meant. 

Tony didn’t lean in. Instead, he lifted Peter’s wrist and left a flurry of soft kisses on the bruise. Slowly trailing upward, peppering kisses across Peter’s palm and fingertips. He paused, whispering against Peter’s skin, “Can I touch you more?”

Peter gave a soft smile, “Yeah, Tones.”

And Tony smiled – but it wasn’t all happiness – no, somewhere in his eyes Peter could see the worry lurking. Even as he grasped Peter’s waist and pulled him into his lap, he was so oddly  _ careful _ . Careful in the way he skimmed his fingertips against the tops of Peter’s thighs. Careful in the soft trail up Peter’s back and the faint grip on his sides. Careful in the way his eyes flickered between those big brown orbs and those smooth pink lips. Deathly careful in the tone of his voice, so tender and desperate, “I don’t want to upset you anymore.”

Those barely-there words were like sirens in Peter’s ears, leaving a twisting pain in his chest as memories of their fights flooded his thoughts. All the confusion, all the insecurity, all the hurt. Feelings so vivid in his mind as he pressed his lips against Tony’s, seeking comfort in the very source of all his strife.

Their kiss was gentle and innocent, paired with soothing touches that sent static tingles up Peter’s spine and a flurry of emotions that brought tears down his cheeks. Silently trickling from the corners of his eyes as he brought his hands up to caress the stubble along Tony’s jaw. Thumbing tiny circles into the older boy’s cheek, guiding their lips even closer before pulling away slow, hovering just beyond that sweet sensation.

A blink sent cascades of new tears down the contours of Peter’s face as he stared into the pools of anxiety that were his boyfriend’s eyes. “I’m  _ so _ mad at you,” He whispered against Tony’s lips, his voice shaky as the taste of warm breath and tears swirled inside his senses. “But I’m weak,” He breathed out a soft, defeated laugh. “I’m so fucking weak for you, Tony.”

For a moment, Tony’s lips trembled, parting and closing as if to vet the words that lay beneath. “I-” He spoke, his face hot against Peter’s fingertips before he tucked his forehead against his boyfriend’s collarbone, tightening his hold to further convey the message of his simple, yet curated words. “I missed you.”

Peter smiled through his tears, bringing his hands to Tony’s dark locks, threading his fingers through to the nape of his neck, where he rubbed mindless shapes into the flushed skin. “I missed you too, Tones.”

“And I’m so lucky to have you,” Tony muttered, his breath tickling the curve of Peter’s neck.

“But you hurt me,” Peter’s voice was borderline unstable and each deep breath he took only caused more tears to flow. “You have to tell me why. Please.”

Tony inhaled and held it, lifting his head and locking gazes with Peter, revealing the single tear stain that streaked across his cheek. As he exhaled, he struggled against the wetness pooling on his lashes, “Because I’m broken... and jealous—”

“Tony,” Peter breathed out, worry painted across his tone.

“—and everything was so out of control.” Tony paused, clenching his teeth and taking another breath. “The shit at home has gotten bad and seeing you with Quentin scared me,” His hands trembled against Peter’s skin, “It made me feel like you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Tony," Peter gave a small, reassuring smile. "You’re the only one I want.”

“But I’m scared you’ll leave.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah.”

The next moments were filled with nothing but the echo of heartbeats and breaths as they embraced not only each other but the breakthrough they yearned for. A conversation that ended without anger; a conversation they needed; one they craved.

Yet again, Tony was the first to break the silence. This time with a more lighthearted tone. “You look hot today.”

“You like the shirt?” Peter softly giggled, wiping the tears from his face, “May bought it so I could look floral and beachy.”

“You look so cute in it, baby,” Tony smiled, pressing a kiss against Peter’s cheek.

“T-Tones,” Peter stuttered, averting his bashful eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you know that?”

“Tony-”

“Do you?”

“Yes!” Peter laughed. “You tell me all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s still not enough,” Tony grinned, squeezing his arms where they sat at Peter’s waist. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

“Thank you,” Peter’s laughter trailed off as he pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead. “Now, I don’t want to ruin this mood, but we should probably join the others.”

“Or we could stay here,” Tony’s tone dropped low, husky and tempting against Peter’s ear. “And you can let me apologize to you properly.”

Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, “W-We shouldn’t r-right now.”

“Not right now, hm?” Tony whispered against the skin beneath Peter’s ear, “What if I say I’ll do anything you want?”

Those words sent chills across Peter’s skin. “A-Anything?” 

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Tony assured.

A small whine escaped Peter’s lips as he posed a shaky, “Later t-tonight?”

Tony smirked, grazing his hand against his boyfriend’s inner thigh, “If you can even last till then.”

Peter’s face exploded in a dark blush. “I c-can!” He exclaimed, sliding off of Tony’s lap and walking over to his suitcase to grab his swim shorts, facing the wall to hide his embarrassment.

Tony snorted, “Whatever you say, baby.” The bed creaked as he stood and in a few short steps, his palms were pressing against the wall on either side of Peter’s frame. “But if that changes—”

Peter spun around, intending to interrupt but being dazed by the sight in front of him. Somewhere between the bed and wall, Tony had managed to remove his tank top.  _ Fuck. _

“—I’ll be here to help in any way I can,” Tony whispered, staring at Peter with a suggestive glint in his eyes as his tongue shot across his bottom lip. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter squeaked, his face much redder than before as he ran off to the bathroom to change. 

In the honesty of the bathroom mirror, Peter could see how much of an impact Tony had on him; from flushed face to racing heart to budding erection. It was actually a nice feeling; to have that pain, which lingered inside him over the weekend, slowly evaporating. To know the bruise on his wrist would be easier to bear. To feel that his strife wasn’t eternal. It was nice.

Peter changed into his swimwear, opting to leave his floral shirt on but unbuttoned. He splashed his face with cold water and took a few deep breaths, calming his arousal before journeying back across the hall to their room. 

Tony was lounging across the bed, shirt still off, swiping through his phone. “You could’ve got changed in here.”

“No, I couldn’t have,” Peter laughed. “And you know it.”

Tony gave a sly grin, “Yeah, probably not.”

“What are you looking at?” Peter asked as he tossed his clothes atop his suitcase. “Aren’t you going to come swim?”

“I will. I’m just checking this notification about Jarvis.”

“What about him?”

“I spent a lot of time improving him this weekend,” Tony explained. “Upgrading his processing and, before I left, I ran some diagnostics.”

“Is everything working fine?”

“Yeah, he can even access Stark Industries now,” Tony smiled. “I’m a genius.”

“Okay, mister genius,” Peter rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but to grin, “I’m going to go swim so hurry up and get changed!” He giggled at Tony’s lazy  _ Yes sir! _ as he exited the room and headed out the backdoor to the deck area.

Outside, nearly everyone was in the water or on the beach, save for the small group standing around the grill. Music, that Peter could only categorize as  _ beach vibes, _ was pumping through the giant standing speaker Bruce brought. And the smell of grilled vegetables and barbecue permeated the salty air. This was the most  _ spring break _ of a spring break trip Peter has ever taken and honestly, he couldn’t complain.

As Peter approached the grill, Bucky and Sam started whistling, playfully catcalling him. “Someone looks real glowy,” Bucky mentioned, gesturing up and down Peter’s body. 

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, lightly laughing along. “Some might call it that after-sex glow.”

“Guys,” Peter covered his face, “We didn’t!”

“ _ Sure _ you didn’t,” Bucky teased.

“What didn’t you do?” Quentin asked, walking over with Steve, who was carrying a nearly empty platter of grilled kabobs.

“You see, Peter took so long because he was fu-” Sam began.

“I was nothing!” Peter interrupted, shooting Sam an exasperated look. “Let’s not talk about me,” He shook his head, nervously smiling, “Let’s talk about this food! It smells delicious.”

“You want some?” Quentin offered, grabbing the last kabob from the platter and holding it up to Peter’s mouth. “Have a bite.”

“Um, o-okay,” Despite being caught off guard, Peter took a quick bite, enjoying the savory flavors as it was fed to him and pulling away with a smile. “Wow, the sauce is good, guys!”

Sam sighed, shaking his head, “Quentin, you really have bad timing, bro.” He pointed to the back door, where Tony stood staring at the scene.

“Whatever, man,” Quentin just scoffed, unbothered, “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

But Peter froze, watching as the bad boy strolled towards them, genuinely worried that he would be set off again by Quentin’s actions. “Hey, Tones, we were jus-!”

Without warning, Tony grabbed Peter by his waist and leaned in, licking some stray sauce from the corner of Peter’s mouth. The sight made Steve, Sam, and Bucky erupt into a symphony of  _ Oooo _ ’s and  _ oh shit _ ’s but, most importantly, laughter. 

Tony pulled away, smirking at the flush on his boyfriend’s face. “That  _ is _ good, did you make that Rogers?”

“Yeah,” Steve said through his laughter. “Well played, Tony.”

“I try,” Tony shot a smug grin towards Quentin, whose face had dropped into a scowl.

And Peter had no time to respond before Ned and MJ were calling him to get in the water and  _ enjoy your spring break, dude! _

##  **~*~*~**

After swimming and dinner and a fair amount of relaxation around the fire pit, the night began to spiral. Sam and Rhodey were pushing for drinking games because  _ what’s the point of all these handles if we’re not going to get fucked up. _ It was a compelling argument. One that had them taking penalty shots if they uttered the word ‘cup’ during any game and gave rise to the chaotic drunk duo of Ned and Happy.

Peter learned a lot from these games, like how inexplicably well MJ could hold her liquor or how drunk Bruce could solve high-level calculus in his head without paper or a calculator. Then there was Steve, Sam, and Bucky’s shameless demonstration of a three-way kiss and, after a hilarious body shot dare, there were also lighthearted jokes about Rhodey’s huge crush on Pepper. However, to Peter, the best moment was watching Tony beat every single guy in the room at arm wrestling, especially Quentin.

As the festivities died down, Peter realized something a little later than he should have. He was hammered; smashed; thoroughly fucked up; wasted; trashed; drunk and, subsequently, super fucking horny. 

Was alcohol supposed to work like this? Peter really didn’t know but something about Tony’s lap looked so inviting. All the bad boy was doing was sitting, arms resting across the top of the couch, knees parted for comfort – he was even wearing a shirt now – but Peter’s mind had ventured somewhere perverted; somewhere with that shirt off and thrown against the floor.

Suddenly, Peter was much closer than he was before. Fuck, how did he get here? Did he crawl over? He didn’t know, but that grin on Tony’s face definitely reads  _ my boyfriend just crawled across the floor and has taken refuge between my legs. _ Peter giggled, his tone slurred and playful, “You want me to suck your dick, don’t you?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Tony grinned as he leaned forward, elbows against knees, bringing a hand to Peter’s flushed face.

“Yes,” Peter hummed, nuzzling Tony’s palm.

Tony gave a low, amused laugh, “Right here, in front of everyone, that’s what you want, baby?”

_ Oh, right. _ They weren’t alone. Peter glanced around the room. Most of the group had dispersed, but sitting on the adjacent couch were Steve, Sam, and Bucky. Judging by the litany of empty cans and bottles around them, they were all clearly beyond their buzz too. “Is that what you want, Tony?” Peter bit his lip and smiled, his body rocking back and forth to compensate for his spinning head.

Steve snorted, “No sucking dick in the living room unless it’s my dick.”

“I’ll suck your dick, doll,” Bucky whispered, slowly trailing his fingers down Steve’s chest.

“James, babe, don’t tease me.” Steve laughed.

Peter giggled, “You call him James?”

“What? Like you don’t call him Anthony when you’re alone.” Sam quipped.

“I don’t,” Peter pouted up at his boyfriend. “Why don’t you let me call you, Anthony?”

“I just hate how it sounds,” Tony shrugged as he gently caressed Peter’s warm face.

“Oh, okay, then I won’t,” Peter nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into Tony’s touches. “I like calling you Tones more anyway.”

“Yeah?” Tony smirked, moving to drag his thumb across Peter’s lips. “What else do you like?”

Peter whined and, if he wasn’t so filled with liquid courage, he wouldn’t have dipped his lips around Tony’s thumb and sucked the way he did. He wouldn’t have swirled his tongue around it or moaned on it. He wouldn’t have pulled off with a pop or given it so many tiny licks. He wouldn’t have done all those things if his body wasn’t as warm and as woozy as it was.

“Holy shit,” Sam mumbled with an incredulous look on his face. “That’s-”

“Hot,” Steve interjected.

Bucky shook his head, “Fucking hot.”

“They’re complimenting you, baby,” Tony whispered as he skimmed his fingers down Peter’s chin and stopped against his nipple, massaging the pad of his now wet thumb against the nub. “How’s that make you feel?”

“ _ Good _ ,” Peter softly moaned, leaning into the gentle pleasure his boyfriend gave.

Tony smiled, using his free hand to card through his boyfriend’s hair, “You should thank them then.”

Peter’s already flushed face went a deeper shade of red and his voice dropped to a murmur, “Um… But I-I’m... _ embarrassed _ .”

“Don’t be,” Tony smirked, pointing to the very enraptured group of drunk teens. “Look, they can’t wait to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Peter whispered, turning towards them with his chin tilted towards his chest. “T-Thank you...um, Steve, Sam, Bucky...for the compliment.”

“Stark, you’re killing me here,” Steve groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch as Sam placed a hand over his mouth like he was trying to conceal a grin.

“Of course, doll,” Bucky replied with a smile. “You’re so cute, how could we not?”

“Agreed!” It was Quentin, entering the room with slurred speech and a mischievous smile. “Peter  _ is _ cute. Really fucking cute.” He stressed, rounding the couch and taking a seat beside Tony and Peter.

Tony grimaced, pulling his hand away as he stood, “Peter, get up. Let’s go to our room.”

“What? No. Go ahead and continue the show, Stark, don’t mind me,” Quentin said as his eyes dropped to Peter. “I would love for Peter to thank me too.”

Tony inhaled sharp, muscles tensed with anger, “Don’t test me.”

“No, Tony,” Peter whined, gently tugging at the ankle of his boyfriend’s sweatpants. “Don’t be mad. Beck is nice to me.”

“See, Stark?” Quentin flashed a smug grin. “I’m nice to him. So relax. How about we have a drink, hm?” He offered, reaching to the bottles strewn about the coffee table and grabbing a nearly empty tequila. “We can finish this off.” He took a large swig before offering it to Peter. “Here, kid.”

“Thanks,” Peter mumbled, taking a swig of his own, the taste leaving his face twisted in discomfort. “That’s gross!” He exclaimed, hiccuping a couple times and causing everyone to laugh. Except for Tony.

“Peter, seriously-!” Tony snapped, reaching to pull the bottle away, surprised when Peter dodged him.

“No!” Peter slurred, clutching the bottle to his chest. “You said you wouldn’t make me mad anymore. So stop!”

Tony clenched his fists, trying to hold back his anger, “Don’t do this right now.”

“Hey, he said stop,” Quentin interjected, standing from the couch and facing Tony with irritation in his eyes. “So why don’t you stop being such a fucking dick?”

Tony seethed, “I swear if you open your fucking mouth again-”

“You’ll what?” Quentin challenged. “You obviously got a problem with me, Stark, so do something!” Quentin scoffed, arms outstretched like he was inviting Tony to hit him.

“No, don’t fight,” Peter urged, his brow furrowed and his lips in a pout, as he stood up a bit too fast, dropping the bottle and stumbling forward, careening face-first against Quentin’s chest.

“Well, hello there,” Quentin laughed, hands reactively clutching at Peter’s bare sides. “You feel just as nice as you look, sweetheart.” 

And that was it. 

Tony lost it.

The shock of the punch was enough to make Quentin drop Peter, who staggered away from them and tripped on the corner of the coffee table. And, as their battle raged on, Peter was falling, colliding against the floor with a loud  _ thud! _ but even that wasn’t enough to stop their brawl. Things started to get hazy after that. Flashes of Tony wailing on Quentin, hard enough to make his nose bleed, and glimpses of the frantic way Steve and Sam tried breaking up the fight.

“Peter? Hey! Peter, get up! Peter,” Bucky was at his side –  _ oh god, stop shaking me. _

“Peter!” Somewhere in the haze, he could hear MJ too. “What the fuck are you idiots doing?!” She sounded pissed. “What happened to him?!” And worried. “Peter! Peter! Oh my god, he’s not waking up. Bucky, help me carry him.”

“Wait, no, MJ, let me help, I’ll-”  _ Tony is so sweet. Yes, help her. _

“No!” MJ yelled, “Stay the fuck away from him until you get your shit together, you violent prick!”  _ Fuck, that was a little harsh, MJ. _

And then things went dark.

##  **~*~*~**

The next morning, Peter’s head was heavy, pounding like he had walked through a construction site and slept next to a running jackhammer. The daylight burned his corneas and –  _ oh no, oh god _ – nausea hit him like a wave. With a hand over his mouth, he shot up, eyes scanning the room for a place to hurl, surprised to find a conveniently placed trash directly beside the bed. In the next moment, he was puking but it came out clear like he had chugged a ton of water. He groaned, holding his queasy stomach, attempting to collect his bearings. Noting two very important things: one, he was in Ned’s room, and two, hangovers were _ not _ to be taken lightly. What the fuck happened last night?

“Oh good, you’re up,” MJ said as she ambled into the room, her face disappointed and her arms crossed. “You really  _ fucking _ scared me, Peter.”

“Me too, dude,” Ned said, strolling in behind her. “I’m filing an official complaint. Drunk me does not handle stress well.”

Peter laughed but the pressure in his temple left him wincing, “What happened?” He asked, his voice groggy as he fell back against the bed.

MJ sighed like she had been through hell, “You almost died—”

“Okay, _ that’s _ an exaggeration,” Ned clarified.

“—and your violent boyfriend fought the new kid.”

“MJ, we’ve been over this, he isn’t violent,” Peter sighed, pausing as he processed what else she said. “Wait, is Tony okay?”

MJ dropped her face against her palm, “Of course  _ he’s _ fine! You _ should _ be asking about Quentin, you know, the one with the black eye!” She pinched the bridge of her nose, “Fucking hell, why do I even try?”

“They’re both okay,” Ned continued. “They didn’t fight that much, especially after you got sick and MJ bitched them out.”

“Oh god,” Peter let out a frustrated groan. “Is everyone else okay?”

“Yeah, Tony went out with his friends and I think Steve and the guys are outside swimming,” Ned explained. “We’re about to head to the store to grab some ice cream for everyone, so-”

“So, you need to go and apologize to Quentin,” MJ pressed. “He hasn’t been out of his room since last night.”

“Do I have to?” Peter complained, pulling the covers over his head in a sad attempt to hide from his problems.

“Yes!” MJ grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him upright. “Go clean yourself up and apologize. I’m serious, Peter.”

“Ugh...fine,” Peter grumbled, reluctantly grabbing his puke trash can and following them out the room. “But what do I even say to him? I’m sorry you picked a fight you couldn’t win?”

MJ physically cringed, raising her voice in anger, “How about sorry my violent boyfriend beat the shit out of you?!”

“He’s not violent!” Peter snapped back, clearly exasperated, “Beck must’ve done something.”

“Quentin has been nothing but nice to you! Sure, he’s a flirty little shit, but that alone doesn’t make him worthy of getting his face kicked in,” MJ retorted. “You invited him on this trip, Peter.  _ You _ made that choice!” She pointed at him, finger against his chest. “So take some fucking responsibility! And, just so we’re clear, you are  _ not _ allowed to say Tony isn’t violent when I literally watched him give Quentin a black eye last night!”

Peter was floored by his best friend’s words, guilt filling his body as he stumbled to respond, “I- um...shit. MJ, I didn’t think- I’m sorry… I'm sorry you had to see that and I get it. You’re right.”

Ned nodded, placing a hand against Peter’s shoulder. “She usually is, dude.”

“I’ll talk to Beck,” Peter decided as he gestured to himself. “Right after I decontaminate.”

“Good, because you smell,” MJ said, smirking at the disgruntled face Peter made. “Also, so you can’t chicken out, figure out what kind of ice cream Quentin wants and text us,” She added just before disappearing down the steps with Ned.

Peter let out another long groan as he stalked into the bathroom to wash the trash can. Seeing himself in the mirror was awful, more awful in the bright lights above the vanity. His hair was a mess and, despite not having a shirt on, he was visibly sweaty. “Ugh,” Peter grumbled as he ran to grab his toiletries before hopping into the shower. His head still felt terrible, made worse by the thought of having to function for the remainder of the day. So, as he enjoyed his shower, he found himself swearing he wouldn't drink like that again.

After he got dressed and took the aspirin MJ kindly left on his nightstand, Peter made the journey to the room at the end of the hall. Pausing for a few beats before knocking on Quentin’s door. “Hey, Beck, it’s me, can I come in?”

A muffled  _ Yeah _ came through the door, so Peter pushed it open, not at all fazed by the purple-ish bruise surrounding Quentin’s eye. “How are you?”

“Perfectly fine,” Quentin snarked, patting the bed beside him. “Your boyfriend has a good right hook.”

“And a good left,” Peter joked as he scooted onto the bed, pausing before beginning his apology. “Look, I’m sorry that Tony did that to you. It was wrong and I’ll talk to him about it.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin shrugged, turning against the bed, facing Peter. “Honestly, I probably deserved it.” He said, his eyes filled with worry. “I could’ve backed off but I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“What do you mean?” Peter squinted, still unsure about the specifics of last night.

“He’s dangerous, Peter, and I’m worried about you,” Quentin stressed. “You’re so amazing and kind, but also really funny and bold. You use words over fists and, I mean, you’re beautiful, like really, insanely beautiful.”

Peter blushed – much like he had done in the hallway after his and Beck’s first day together. Only, this time, Peter knew it definitely wasn’t infatuation. “Beck, I d-”

“I like you, Peter,” Quentin interrupted, reaching for Peter’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “I like you  _ so much _ and, I’ll admit, seeing you with Tony makes me do stupid shit like fight but I just-”

“Beck,” Peter interrupted and took a slow breath, wanting his words to be as gentle as possible. “I’m sorry but I don’t like you in that way.” He began, “You’re nice as a friend but I’m in a relationship with Tony. I need you to understand that.”

“But are you happy with him?” Quentin challenged. “Didn’t he make you cry? Didn’t he hurt you?”

“Yes,” Peter gave a solemn nod, gently pulling his hand away from Quentin’s.“We had a bad fight but that’s part of it.” He shrugged, “I like him enough to work through stuff like that.”

Quentin sighed, falling back against the bed with a loud huff, “Not going to lie, my heart is a little broken right now.”

“I’m sure it’ll get better,” Peter smiled, trying to exude ease in his expression. “And if you ever feel comfortable enough, friendship will always be on the table. I mean, you saved me from Loki and we have so much in common.”

“A consolation friendship?” Quentin scoffed, a smile of disbelief planted firmly on his face. “I guess it’s better than nothing.”

“Well, if you don’t take it, all you would have is a black eye, so…”

“Hey!” Quentin exclaimed, laughing and playfully chucking a pillow at Peter. For a moment, he seemed fine but then his voice trailed off into a whisper and he rolled over, burying his face against the covers. “Hey Peter, I kind of want to cry my eyes out right now, so could you…”

“Oh, um… Yeah! S-Sorry, I’ll leave,” Peter stammered, shooting up from the bed and heading out the door. 

And he made it all the way down the hall. He made it to his room. He made it to his bed. It was handled. Completely over and done. But a text from MJ had him rushing back. A simple question about ice cream had him standing in front of Quentin’s door.

At first, a whispered, “Hey Beck, MJ wants me to…” Then a pause as Peter listened; as Peter heard, yet again, betrayal. This time to the tune of one Quentin Beck.

_ Yes, I just tried that. It seems the Parker kid is actually in love with your son.  _

_ Yes, I’ve maintained a connection. We’re friends.  _

_ Yes, absolutely sir. I’ll check back in if anything changes over the week.  _

_ No, thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Stark. I won’t let you down. _

##  **~*~*~**

Peter found that ugly sobbing was easier to do alone. So, for the remainder of the morning, he held nothing back. Not the infuriated screams into his pillow. Not the weak laughter at events so difficult to understand that they brought him to hysterics. Not the moments of silence, where he would ball his fists and fight the urge to do uncontrollably dark things. Not the tears, not the panic, not the ounces of fear that laid dormant within him. 

But then Peter did; he held back those feelings, knowing he needed to pull himself together; grip his proverbial bootstraps and retaliate smart. So, while he cried into the void of his pillowcase, he also thought and considered and plotted. Like sharpening a blade on a whetstone, he planned and pictured the outcome over and over and over again until he was satisfied. Until he felt it was perfect enough to protect–

“Tony,” Peter gasped, surprised when he turned over to find his boyfriend standing by the door, watching with horror as tears flowed down Peter’s face. It was silent for a few moments of eye contact and shock, then Peter moved, sitting against the edge of the bed.

“P-Peter,” Tony’s voice trembled as he approached, dropping down onto his knees in front of Peter. “Hey, baby,” He breathed, gingerly cupping his hands on Peter’s arms. “I’m sorry...again. I know, I lost control, but I-”

Peter shook his head, “Tony-”

“Wait,” Tony interrupted, gazing up at Peter like a dog with its ears down. “Please don’t be upset. I know I messed up but please-”

“Tony, stop. It's not-”

“Peter, please don’t.”

“Don’t? What are you-?”

“Don’t break up with me,” Tony pleaded, a tear running from the corner of his eye. “ _ Please. _ ”

The sight of Tony’s single tear made ten times that amount fall from Peter’s eyes, but he shook his head, his voice rough from the sobs, “I’m not breaking up with you, Tony.”

“Really?” Tony breathed with disbelief, frantically searching Peter’s expression for the truth. “Then why are you crying?”

Peter gave a weak laugh and a flurry of more tears. “I’ll explain but I need to borrow Jarvis first.”

Tony was confused but wasted no time in handing his phone over. “Why do you-?”

“Just trust me,” Peter sniffled. “This is the only way I can know for sure.” He looked down at the phone, “Jarvis, give me everything Stark Industries has on Quentin Beck.”

“What?” Tony instantly reacted, shoulders tensing at the mere mention of his father’s company in relation to his rival. “Why?” A confusion so strong that it almost looked painful. “Why the  _ fuck _ would Beck be in the Stark database?” 

“Because,” Peter began, one hand trembling around the phone and the other trembling where it clutched to Tony’s arm. “He works for your dad,” He turned the phone, revealing Quentin’s employee file. “He’s being paid to break us up.”

“I’ll kill him.” A whisper that brought forth a rage that brought forth a fire. 

Tony stood, body so tense that Peter could see the veins in his arms. He was seething, filled with pure hatred. He moved to his bag first, dumping the contents onto the floor until a very familiar butterfly knife clattered against it. In moments, the closed knife was in his hand and he was barreling towards the door, propelled by anger.

But Peter stepped in the way, pushing his hands against Tony’s chest. “Wait! You can’t, Tones!”

“No! Get the fuck out of my way, Peter!” Tony screamed, face going red in his outrage. “Get off!” He pushed Peter aside in one controlled shove. “He did this shit on purpose! He messed with us  _ on purpose _ ! He needs to pay!”

“I know!” Peter screamed back, throwing himself against Tony and locking his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Tony, _ I know _ , but you can’t,” He pleaded, “Not in front of everyone!”

“Fuck that!” Tony snapped, trying to pull Peter off of him. “I’m going to break every bone in his fucking body!”

“You can’t!” Peter screamed once more, fighting against Tony’s strength with everything in his power.

“Why?! Why the fuck can’t I, Peter?!” Tony yelled, tossing the knife against the far wall in anger. “He’s gone too far!” He struggled more, pushing at Peter’s shoulders. “He deserves this, Peter, he-  _ fuck _ ,” He cursed, his strength waning as Peter held fast. “He fucking-” His voice was a whisper then, “He fucking takes  _ everything _ ,” He stressed, gasping before the tears came, no longer talking about Quentin Beck. “I’m just his fucking punching bag. Nothing I do is good enough."

And Peter looked up, bewildered as Tony’s breaths became sporadic; as his voice started to shake; as his eyes glossed over with a cloud of tears; as those tears slid down his terrified face; as he fully broke down. Relaxing in Peter’s hold, weakly dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, sobbing into his t-shirt.

“Mom is gone because of him,” Tony cried. “He controls everything. Everything! And he won’t even let me have the one fucking thing that makes this all worth it. Why is he trying to take you away too?”

Peter was quiet, letting the tears soak against him and realizing very quickly that  _ this _ was the real weight of his knife. It was not to be some limiter for an unhinged delinquent; some purveyor of a faulty justice, deciding who gets cut down and when. It was  _ this _ . This weakness in the blade; the part of it that was the most vulnerable; the part that, if struck, would crack the knife into a million pieces. It was Peter’s job to protect that part; to bear that weight; to hold the knife with intention.

“Don’t worry, Tones,” Peter whispered, pressing a kiss atop Tony’s head. “I’m not going anywhere and I promise I’ll take care of this.” He smiled, cupping his boyfriend’s face. “I’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”


	3. Beveled

For the remainder of the day, Peter and Tony stayed in their room, save for the occasional bathroom break or a food delivery courtesy of Ned. They chose to relax together, underneath the covers, in each others’ arms, far away from everything and everyone, especially the aggravating presence of Quentin Beck. Peter wondered how he, once again, fell for a false earnesty and Tony lamented about being an absolute wreck over his father’s conniving behavior. It was almost therapeutic to realize that they were being toyed with; to realize that their fights had been exaggerated by outside forces; to finally see it had not _all_ been their fault.

And after hours of emotional exhaustion, Tony had fallen asleep, snug against Peter’s stomach, arms wrapped around the younger’s torso. Peter, however, was wide awake. Despite his hangover, he was determined to fulfill his promise. He would protect Tony at all costs, even if it meant staying up into the night, fighting his headache, and sifting through the plethora of files in the Stark Industries database. 

With Jarvis, Peter was able to compile some very damning evidence about the company, including its dealings with terrorism and the various transgressions of its CEO. He even had security cam footage from the Stark mansion. Some clips were so heartbreaking that he couldn't bring himself to watch them. Video after video of his most precious person being abused by someone who should care for him the most.

Peter sighed and placed the phone against the nightstand, running a hand through Tony’s hair as he did. His boyfriend was so innocent when he slept, his eyelashes gently twitching in dreams and his soft snores vibrating against Peter’s abdomen. It was almost a shame to have to wake him, but he needed him for what came next. “Tones,” Peter whispered, softly tapping his fingertip against Tony’s cheek. “Wake up.”

Tony stirred awake, yawning as he spoke, “Is it time?”

“Yeah.”

Before Tony’s nap, they had discussed what to do about Quentin. Tony’s anger did not go away. It was just sharper, more focused, not as unhinged as before. He wanted payback in the form of violence and, if Peter was honest with himself, he did too. 

Quentin had played Peter for a fool. He tricked him into defending their fabricated friendship; tricked him into believing _that_ friendship – that stupid, insignificant friendship – was somehow worth all of the arguments with Tony. Peter didn’t just want payback – no, he wanted some fucking retribution. He wanted Quentin Beck to regret what he had done. 

And he wanted it to hurt.

So Peter shared his plan, in whispered breaths during their lazy day, convinced by the devious smirk it brought to Tony’s face, that it would please them both. And it started there: right outside of Quentin’s door.

“Beck?” Peter spoke as he knocked, his free hand restlessly clutching the handle of his suitcase. “Are you awake?”

The faint sound of footsteps approaching the door made Peter’s heart race but, surprisingly enough, especially to Peter, it wasn’t because of nerves. It was the adrenaline of knowing what was to come coursing through his veins. As the door swung open, he put on a terrified expression, attempting to sell his distress with wet eyes, a furrowed brow, and a frown. “Beck,” He let his voice tremble like he was on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Quentin asked, moving to place a hand against Peter’s face, thumbing at the tear that escaped his lower lash. “Why do you have your bag? What’s going on?”

Peter clenched his teeth and leaned into Quentin’s touch, trying to be as persuasive as possible, “We need to leave.”

“Why-?”

“Tony hit me,” Peter lied, feigning his sorrow with a sniffle and a stressful hand through his hair. “You were right about him. I should’ve listened, I should’ve-”

“Shh,” Quentin pulled Peter into a hug. “It’s okay. We can leave. I’ll pack my stuff.”

“Okay, but be quick,” Peter urged, shaking as he prevented himself from flinching out of Quentin’s grasp. “Tony doesn’t know I’m leaving.” An extra lie, coated in a frantic tone that made Quentin pack in a hurry, carelessly throwing his belongings into his suitcase before zipping it up and grabbing his keys from atop the dresser.

“Okay, come on,” Quentin whispered, following Peter into the hall as he closed the door behind him.

That was easier than Peter thought it would be. And with one task complete, Peter moved onto the next: the keys. As they reached the top of the staircase, Peter made a show of how heavy his bag was; struggling with two hands as he slowly took the first step, and then an even slower second, and a third at a snail’s pace…

“Here, let’s trade,” Quentin offered, handing Peter his keys in exchange for the suitcase.

And as he clutched the keys, watching Quentin carrying both bags down the stairs, Peter couldn’t stop himself from smirking. The next part of his plan began once they made it outside and walked down the driveway, far enough away from the house that what followed wouldn’t be heard. 

Quentin stopped at the curb, turning on his heel, “Hey, kid, unlock the car, would you?”

Peter shook his head, face expressionless as he stared into Quentin’s puzzled eyes. “No,” He said as he reached into his pocket, pulling out Tony’s butterfly knife and flipping it open. “I can’t do that, Quentin,” He added as he held the knife forward.

Quentin gave a slow, confused laugh, “What’s going on, kid?”

“You know _exactly_ what’s going on,” Peter glared at him, his anger starting to seep out. “How much is Mr. Stark paying you, hm? Enough to buy a fancy new car?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quentin immediately denied, a feeble attempt at maintaining his ruse.

Peter sighed, reaching into his pocket, switching the keys for his phone. “Quentin Beck, 18, works for Mysterio Incorporated as a professional grifter,” Peter snorted at the next line. “A _prodigy_ in the art of the con. A bit of a stretch there, no?” He continued, “Official job assignment: sever all social, physical, and romantic connections between Peter Parker and Tony Stark.” He said, pointing the phone screen towards Quentin. “Still don’t know what I’m talking about?”

Quentin immediately dropped his gaze but then he laughed, slow and a bit dismayed, “I’ll give it to you, Parker, you’ve surprised me.” As he lifted his head, he seemed to relax in a different, less-friendly persona like a chameleon donning its natural color. “How’d you find out?”

“I heard you on the phone.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken that call,” Quentin shook his head, “You know, this was supposed to be an easy job,” He pointed out, “Break up a scared little kid and a violent asshole.” He kicked the suitcases onto their sides, “But, of course, you turn out to be just as crazy as he is,” He snapped, “You two are fucking perfect for each other!”

Peter was unfazed by Quentin’s anger – in fact, he was indifferent to it; there were no trembles or fear, not even a flinch. “That’s very nice of you,” He nodded and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you think, Tones?”

“Yeah,” Tony spoke as he stepped out of his car, cigarette and lighter in hand, nonchalantly having a smoke as he leaned against the car’s hood. “We _are_ perfect for each other, baby.”

“Fuck this shit,” Quentin rolled his eyes, holding his hand out. “Give me the car keys, Parker.”

“Come and get them,” Peter taunted and tightened his grip on the knife.

Quentin scoffed, taking a step closer to Peter, “And what the fuck are _you_ going to do with that?” He shook his head and took another step. “What? Stab me?” Another step. “A scared little bitch like you would _never_.” Another step; inches away from the knife. “Now give me the goddamn keys!” Quentin yelled, lunging towards Peter to snatch the keys, but his efforts were fruitless.

Peter slid his foot back, angling his body so that the pocket with the keys faced away from the impending grasp. He inhaled fast, his hand reactively flinching, swiping the blade of the knife against Quentin’s outstretched arm. And as he pulled away, he exhaled and glanced down at the knife, its beveled edge now streaked in a thin layer of blood. Then his gaze flickered to Tony, who was puffing gray into the latenight air, watching the interaction without an ounce of worry. The sight kept Peter calm as his focus moved back to Quentin, who had recoiled backward with a hiss, clutching his arm.

“You stupid little- you cut me!” Quentin snapped, fists balling in anger. “I’m not fucking playing with you, Parker!” He dashed forward, so caught up in his rage that he paid no attention to his biggest threat. Not bothering to notice the cigarette that had been flicked against the pavement; not even glancing up to see how close in proximity the looming threat was. It was a grave mistake.

Tony wound back his fist and clocked Quentin so hard in the jaw that he stumbled backward, tripping against a crack in the pavement. His hands shot down against the warm concrete, palms scratching on the abrasive surface as he broke his fall. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth and the cuts on his hands and arm, but there was no time to focus on the pain. He rolled over, quickly shifting to get back on feet, but the bad boy had descended, pinning him against the ground. He had no choice but to brace himself as a flurry of quick jabs were unleashed on his face, the force of which would no doubt break his nose if he did nothing. So he pushed, wrestling Tony onto his side, trying to flip them entirely and turn the tides of their fight, but Tony’s knee in his gut threw that plan into the water.

On impulse, Quentin clutched his stomach, letting out a pained grunt, watching as Tony stood and poised himself to kick the same place he had kneed. Acting quickly, Beck rolled, dodging the kick and finally managing to get back on his feet. Much like the fight against Loki, Quentin fought passively, fists squared to protect his face as he waited for Tony’s next move.

Tony laughed, brimming with a refined rage like he had dragged all that unhinged anger to an anvil and forged his next attacks. He was light on his feet, taking a boxer’s stance and closing in to throw a couple of jabs at Quentin’s openings. There were a few misses to the face, but a single hooked punch to the side had Quentin hunched over. 

And from there, it might as well have been decided. Tony grabbed Quentin in a headlock, letting loose a whirlwind of punches to his side, reveling in the way Quentin collapsed to his knees in pain. It was when Tony grabbed Quentin’s arm and positioned himself to break it that Peter finally interjected.

“No bones, Tony,” Peter stepped towards them, placing a hand against Tony’s shoulder. “We are still kicking him out. He has to drive.”

“Didn’t you say that piece of shit car was self-driving?”

“I did, but-”

“A rib?” Tony asked, his eyes dilated from the adrenaline of the fight as he held Quentin in place.

Peter glanced down at the bruised boy, whose eyes were teeming with a spark of defiance, and he found himself wanting to watch that spark get extinguished. “That’s fine.”

What followed was a kick to Quentin’s ribs so forceful that he screamed and started to give in, gasping and wincing in pain, “Fuck you, Parker!”

“Tony,” Peter whispered. “Another.”

And Quentin couldn’t get a word in before the pain of having a rib broken blended with the pain of having an already broken rib kicked. “Okay!” He grunted out, fear glazed across the tone of his voice. “Okay, fucking stop! Stop!”

“Tones,” Peter said it like a command and Tony followed it by holding Quentin still in a kneeling position. Then, Peter stepped in front of Quentin, squatting down to match gazes, “Are you ready to apologize?”

“What the fuck?” Quentin growled, weakly struggling against Tony’s hold. “No! I was hired!”

“Tony, I didn’t hear an apology, did you?” Peter asked as he hovered the butterfly knife in front of Quentin’s throat. “Maybe he needs a little more. How many ribs do you think you can break before a person passes out from all the pain?”

Quentin’s eyes went wide. Even with a knife outstretched and poised at his throat, the words that fell from Peter’s mouth were somehow sharper and more perilous. “Fine!” He broke, voice cracking under the force of Peter’s threat. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for what I did, okay? I’m sorry.”

“See?” Peter smiled, hovering the knife upward and pressing it gently against Quentin’s face. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

And Quentin let out a defeated laugh, “How are you even the same person I saved last week?”

“I’m not,” Peter stood, pulling the car keys from his pocket and throwing them into the sand. “Now fetch and don’t come back.”

##  **~*~*~**

“Did you get my email with the security cam footage?” Peter spoke into his phone, pacing back and forth in the sand. “Yeah, it’s _really_ bad. Did you call the lawyer? Do you think he can do something with it?” He asked, stepping into the wet sand, enjoying the feeling of warm water splashing against his feet. “Thanks, May. Yes, _now_ I’m having fun. Yeah, Tony too. Nope, there’s no alcohol. No, I’m not lying. My voice doesn’t have a tone. It doesn’t!” He laughed, turning on his heel, surprised to find Tony walking towards him with two drinks in hand. “Oh, May, I’ve got to go. Yeah, Tony’s here. Okay, okay, I’ll tell him. Bye!” Peter hung up the call, smiling as he took a cup from Tony. “May says hi and that she misses you.”

“Auntie called?” Tony’s eyebrow shot up. “Why didn’t you say so? I could’ve talked to her.”

“You can talk to her when we get back,” Peter waved it off, taking a quick sip of the fizzy mixed drink, face scrunching from the burn of vodka. “What did you put in this?” 

“Nothing much, just vodka and soda.” 

Peter groaned, looking at the drink like it could kill. “How much exactly?”

Tony smiled, looking Peter up and down, “Did you get sexier since the last time we spoke?”

“In the few minutes I was on the phone? Absolutely.” Peter playfully retorted, returning the smile. “But no avoiding my questions. _How much_ vodka, Tones?”

“Not _that_ much,” Tony laughed, taking a large swig of his drink. “Just don’t drink it too fast, okay?”

Peter gave a light huff, “What about you? Two more of those and your cup will be empty!”

Tony scoffed, “I’m not a lightweight like you.”

Without warning, a water balloon exploded against the back of Tony’s head, covering his back in cold water that had him cringing. Peter erupted into laughter, matching the energies of Rhodey, Pepper, Bruce, and Happy, who had pails of water balloons filled to the brim, fully prepared for war. “That’s what you get for talking shit,” Peter joked.

Tony grinned, turning towards his friends with a fire in his eyes. “Now I’ve got to show these fuckers who’s boss.” He took another large swig of his drink and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back.”

Peter grabbed the cup, watching with a smile as Tony ran towards his friends. Seeing him like this was refreshing, like the stress of the previous week never reared its ugly head. In fact, just relaxing with friends without Quentin around had proven cathartic for them both. Peter spent his morning swimming with Ned and MJ while Tony helped Rhodey and Pepper make breakfast. The adrenaline of last night’s events had simmered and the _vacation_ part of their vacation had truly set in.

Peter carried the two drinks up to the deck, where Bucky, Sam, and Steve were chatting and lounging on chairs. As he took a seat, he laughed at the excited way MJ and Ned prepped their buckets, readying themselves to join the water balloon fray. “You two don’t stand a chance out there in the trenches,” He joked.

“You just watch,” Ned exclaimed, dramatically thrusting a balloon into the air, “I will emerge victorious!”

MJ laughed, shaking her head as she kicked off her sandals. “You should join us, Pete. We can _emerge victorious_ together.”

“No, thanks,” Peter smiled, placing the cups on the ground and slumping against the back of the chair. “But I wish you luck on your conquest.”

“To victory!” Ned yelled, running down to the beach with a water balloon poised to kill.

“Suit yourself, dude.” MJ grinned as she followed, beaming a water balloon from the top of the stairs to one of the unsuspecting teens below.

“Your friends are wild, Pete,” Sam said with a soft laugh. “But they’re alright.”

“Agreed, I really liked them,” Bucky nodded. “I liked Quentin too. Did he ever say why he had to leave?”

Peter shrugged, leaning to grab his cup and take a sip, feigning ignorance. “All he said was he had a family emergency.”

“Shame he had to go,” Steve said with a playful grin. “With all that flirting he was doing, you could’ve been just like me.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, “Like you?”

“He means having two smoking hot boyfriends,” Sam explained, gesturing to himself and Bucky.

“Oh!” Peter shook his head, a small pink tint flushing his cheeks. “It wasn’t like that with Quentin. We were just friends.”

“Were?” Bucky squinted.

“Are! Are.” Peter gave an awkward chuckle and sipped his drink. “Anyways, me and Tony are fine with just each other.”

“Yeah, you guys seemed fine the other night too,” Sam wiggled his brow. “Really fine.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Bucky gasped as he recalled what happened. “You two must have crazy sex.”

Those words made Peter’s small pink tint turn into a fully-fledged blush, “No, we actually haven’t…”

“You guys haven’t had sex?” Steve’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“We’ve like...fooled around, but yeah, no sex...um- actually, we were supposed to during this break,” Peter admitted, taking another sip of his drink to quell his embarrassment.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam questioned.

“Nothing really,” Peter shrugged, glancing down at the beach and all the balloon carnage scattered across the sand. “We just haven’t had the time yet.”

“I think you guys should fuck tonight,” Bucky pointedly suggested. “You’ve got to seduce him, Peter.”

Peter scoffed. “I don’t have a single seducing bone in my body.”

“Drunk Peter had my dumbass fooled then,” Sam spoke under his breath, causing Steve and Bucky to giggle.

Peter gave an awkward laugh, “Can we please forget about that?”

“You sucked on his finger like it was his dick,” Bucky interjected.

Peter groaned, dropping his face into his palm. “Excuse me, I’m going to wither away now and transcend this plane of existence. Don’t wait up for me.”

“See ya,” Sam quipped.

Steve laughed, sitting up from his lounged position, “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Pete. There’s no judgment here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, doll,” Bucky waved it off with a smile. “I’m sure, one of these days, you’ll catch us finger sucking too.”

“That’s comforting,” Peter rolled his eyes with a smile. “But okay, I’ll revert the withering process for now. Still, I don’t think I can channel drunk Peter on command.”

Sam nodded, reaching beside his chair to grab his own drink and holding it out, “Then, instead of channeling him, why don’t you just be him?”

“In _moderation_ this time,” Bucky stressed, holding up his drink as well.

“To Peter getting fucked,” Steve offered a toast.

Peter giggled, holding his cup up to complete the cheers, “To getting fucked!”

##  **~*~*~**

Getting to this point was easy. After dinner and a bit more drinking, Ned roped everyone into a mini dance party with loud summer tunes and plenty of drinks. And something about the unintentional cardio mixed with the assortment of alcohol really made Peter’s haze set in. It was not nearly as strong as before – his motor functions were definitely intact – but that teeth-numbing warmth and indiscriminate confidence was alive and well. With all the sloppy dance moves, Peter could tell that everyone was somewhere on the drunk spectrum, even Tony, who was sporting tinted red cheeks and a very uncharacteristic smile as he moved to fall against the couch.

So, as he danced, Peter locked eyes with the seated bad boy, attempting to be seductive as he rocked his hips to the music as best he could. A little sway here, more hip in that move, add a bit of shoulder to that one; he was putting in _a lot_ of effort. Yet, judging by the obvious snickering his boyfriend was doing, it probably wasn’t reading as sexy – _he was trying his best, okay!_ He gave up, pouting as he rounded the couch, standing behind Tony and leaning in to whisper against his ear. “How dare you laugh at me. I was trying to seduce you.”

“Oh, really?” Tony snorted, leaning his head back against the couch. “I couldn’t tell.”

Peter blushed, lips still pursed in a pout, “Not even a little?”

Tony smiled, reaching his hand backward to pat his boyfriend’s hair. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“That’s good,” Peter whispered as he pressed a kiss against Tony’s cheek. “Did it turn you on?”

Tony inhaled sharp, “This definitely is.”

“Really?” Peter was surprised but moved to speckle more kisses against Tony’s cheek, jaw, and neck. “You like this?”

“Of course, baby,” Tony smirked, tilting his head to lock gazes with Peter. “I fucking love it when you touch me.”

A whine escaped Peter’s throat but, with his goal of seduction still at the forefront of his mind, he managed to contain his excitement. Instead, he leaned in, licking the space beneath Tony’s ear and whispering a fervid, “If you come to our room, I’ll touch you wherever you want.”

Tony didn’t need any more convincing.

They made their way to the bedroom, exchanging affectionate touches as they went. A hand on a hip, circling fingertips against exposed skin, the brush of an arm; innocent gestures that turned fiery the moment they stepped beyond the threshold and closed the door. Peter was the first to latch on, pulling Tony by the collar of his shirt into a messy kiss. One that tasted of vodka and smoke and, among the residual heat of dancing and arousal, it felt like a solar flare against his lips. He moaned into it, moving to jump up into his boyfriend’s arms. 

Even in his buzz, Tony didn’t miss a beat. He caught Peter by the waist, stepping to press him against the wall but diverting towards the bed when Peter whined, a very needy, _the bed, Tones, the bed._ It was confident and sensual and made Tony hard enough to feel through his jeans. 

And Peter could really feel it, especially against his own growing hardness as his boyfriend walked them across the room. He hummed pleasantly as he rutted against it, moving to trail kisses down Tony’s flushed neck, biting down against the skin of his collarbone and sucking to leave a deep red mark.

Tony inhaled through his teeth and groaned at the sensation, muscles flexing as he slowly lowered Peter against the duvet and climbed up between his legs. Then he smirked, staring down at his boyfriend with lust clouded eyes, “So we’re in a biting mood today, hm?” He whispered, leaning down to reciprocate the bite, leaving a mark of his own and enjoying the little whimper that spilled from Peter’s throat.

Peter busied his hands against his boyfriend’s toned stomach and in his wild hair, caressing toward the nape of his neck and around to the small of his back. He moaned, arousal flooding his core as Tony kissed his jaw and brought a hand up his shirt, rolling his fingertips against his nipple. It felt amazing, even more so when mixed with the heady feel of alcohol in his system. He found himself soaking in the closeness, lifting his hips for more and whining when the pleasure of the contact shot up his spine.

But then Tony’s hands snapped to Peter’s waist, pushing him back down against the mattress. “You’re so fucking eager,” He whispered, unable to hold back his pleased grin.

“It’s because I want you to fuck me,” Peter shot back, reaching to push Tony’s hand away and continue his impatient rutting.

“ _What?_ ” Tony looked startled for a moment, then his expression turned pleased, then guilty, then worried. “Fuck, wait,” He shook his head, sitting back onto his knees and pushing down against Peter’s hips. “We can’t.”

Peter pouted, gently brushing his fingertips up Tony’s forearms. “Why not?”

Tony sighed, staring at Peter’s hands like they were torture devices. “You’re drunk, baby.”

“Am not,” Peter lied, putting on his best sober face. “I’m perfectly fine, so please,” He pleaded with a smile, moving to unbutton his shorts but pouting when Tony grabbed his hand to stop him. His expression fell into a frown, insecure feelings starting to surface in the form of anxious words, “Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“No, I do!” Tony said, his eyes glancing across Peter’s body. “I do. _A lot_ ,” He took a deep breath, “You have no idea how much.”

“Then why?”

“Because I want you to be here when I fuck you.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shifting to prop himself up on his elbows. “I _am_ here, Tones.”

“Not completely,” Tony shook his head. “I want to see the face you make around my dick when you’re sober.”

“Me too,” Peter whispered.

Tony let out a light huff, raising his brow, “You too?” 

“No, I meant-” Peter blushed, averting his eyes, “That I want to w-watch you get off inside me.”

“Yeah?” Tony’s voice cracked a little, Peter’s words hitting him like a gunshot to his sanity. He inhaled slow, his gaze momentarily turning indulgent, “What else do you want, sweetheart?”

Peter bit his lip, nervously staring up at his boyfriend and whispering, “F-For you to- um... choke me.”

Tony grinned, leaning forward and ghosting his hand against Peter’s throat before pulling it away, “What else?”

“I want you to be r-rough,” Peter mumbled. “And um- use me... however you want because… I really just want to be good for you.”

Tony inhaled through his teeth, shifting to adjust himself through his jeans, “You are _not_ making this easy for me, baby.”

Peter quietly gasped, “That too, that’s- I want you to call me baby,” He admitted, his face cast in a red hue. “Or baby boy. I like that more, but not all the time, just sometimes, like when we’re alone.”

“Okay, noted, I’ll be sure to tick these boxes later,” Tony smirked, “Anything else?”

“I don’t know,” Peter whispered, slumping back against the bed. “You’re going to think it’s stupid.”

Tony shook his head, “I doubt that.”

“It is!” Peter closed his eyes, looking more embarrassed by the second. “It’s a bunch of stupid first time stuff that’s completely unnecessary because this shouldn’t be such a big deal.”

“Come on, just tell me,” Tony gently urged. “Let me decide if it’s unnecessary.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Promise.”

Peter paused, covering his face with his hands and taking a deep breath. “I want-” He slid his hands away, revealing his expression, earnest and vulnerable, “I want you to say you love me.”

Tony froze, his jaw all but falling to the center of the earth as he was absolutely floored by Peter’s words. Moments of silence passed and then some more, where Tony just stared, gazed, focused solely on the boy in front of him, seemingly trying to find his words.

But Peter couldn’t take the silence, so he gave an awkward laugh, “N-Nevermind, you’re right, I’m drunk, ignore me, I’m being stupid, I’ll just go to sleep now.” He shifted away from Tony, moving to hide beneath the covers, fully prepared to wallow in his embarrassment.

But then Tony laid down beside him, pulling Peter’s covered body against his, whispering a comforting, “That’s not stupid, Peter.”

##  **~*~*~**

Spring break ended after a night of fireworks and group photos on the beach. The following morning brought a group effort clean-up, promises of summertime get-togethers, and friendly number exchanges. Packing the cars turned into hugs and ‘ _see you later_ ’s, which turned into their long drive home. The trip ended perfectly but, as he watched the coast disappear behind them, Peter couldn’t help but feel sad. He already missed the early morning swims, the hilarious conversations around the fire pit, and the drunken late-night antics. As he settled into his sadness, a notification from Ned popped up on his phone: _New Group Chat Invite from ‘Petey’s Mutuals_.’ The name alone was enough to turn his mood around. He immediately dropped a laughing emoji in the chat, smiling at the flood of memes. 

“Who’s blowing up your phone? Auntie?” Tony asked, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

“No, Ned made a group chat with everyone,” Peter giggled and reached for Tony’s phone, “You got an invite too. Want me to accept it?”

“Sure, if you want, but you know I’m going to mute it later,” Tony quipped.

Peter rolled his eyes with a smile, “I know but they’re asking for you. You’ve already been dubbed Petey’s number one mutual.”

“Petey?” Tony repeated with a smirk.

Peter laughed, “I don’t make the rules.”

The remainder of the drive was peaceful, filled with an atmosphere of playful banter and spontaneous jam sessions as the greens of the coast turned into the greys of the city. As the fresh air became stagnant and the windows were closed to give rise to the open vents, their laughter became crisper, easier to hear without the rush of outside sounds. The sun was beginning to set as they turned onto Peter’s street. It was there that their pleasant moment faltered.

Standing in front of Peter’s building, like some kind of treacherous final boss, was Howard Stark, with his sleeves cuffed to his elbows, a sway in his posture, and a five o’clock shadow. He looked furious and a bit drunk, evident in the way his car sat askew against the curb.

“What the fuck?” Tony whispered under his breath as he parked his car across the street. “Why is he here?” He stressed, pulling the keys from the ignition and dropping his head against the steering wheel. 

“Don’t worry, we’re in public, he can’t do anything,” Peter assured as he pulled out his phone, quickly texting his aunt before placing his hand in Tony’s. “We don’t have to get out of the car if you don’t want to.”

“He’s been drinking, Peter,” Tony sighed, lifting his head to reveal his conflicted expression. “I don’t think being in public is going to stop him.”

Peter brought Tony’s hand up and pressed a kiss against his knuckles, “I’ll go and tell him to leave.” 

And before Tony could protest, Peter was outside the car, bravely crossing the street and calmly approaching the apartment building. The slam of the car door let him know Tony was behind him but he didn’t glance back. He kept his eyes trained forward, locked on target, “Why are you here?” He asked, knowing the answer but starting there anyway.

“You!” Howard yelled, reaching forward and yanking Peter by his collar. “What the fuck did you do you little shit?”

In a breath, Tony was there, warily stepping between them and trying to pull Peter out of Howard’s grasp. The defiance angered his father and, just like before, the moment was fast. A hand was raised and swinging, aimed for Tony’s face. The only difference was, this time, Peter didn’t freeze. He held out his arm, using it to shield his boyfriend from the abuse. This time Peter was not paralyzed by his fear, he was motivated by it. 

As his hand landed against Peter’s arm, Howard seethed, preparing for another swing, “You fucking-!”

“I see you got our email,” Peter interrupted, smirking despite the pain throbbing in his arm. 

“Email?” Tony repeated, distracted by the sight of his usually skittish boyfriend standing up to his abusive father. 

Howard’s eyes went wide, instinctively reaching to grab Peter again but stopping when the young boy spoke. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Peter warned. “Don’t forget that we’re in public and it’ll only help our case.”

Howard hesitated, glancing down the sidewalks, reluctantly stepping backward as his eyes met pedestrians. “How did you do it?” He fumed, the scent of alcohol billowing off his breath, “How did you break my encryption?”

“I didn’t,” Peter snorted. “Tony did.”

Howard’s attention shifted, zeroing in on his son with a vehement rage. “You gave this slut access to our company!” He screamed, “Do you even know what you’ve done? Did I not teach you better than this?” And, without warning, he grabbed Tony by his upper arm, “You goddamn waste of space!”

Peter clenched his teeth and, much like his boyfriend had just done for him, he shoved himself between them, trying to pull Tony out of Howard’s grasp. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself!” He snapped, surprising even himself with the outburst but having no time to process it before Howard’s hand was locked in his hair, harshly yanking his head forward.

“What the fuck did you just say, you little shit?!” Howard seethed, ignoring the glances from passing bystanders and, when his son flinched to stop his violence, he yelled an imposing and threatening, “Don’t even think about it, Anthony!”

Peter hissed at the pull, hands shooting up, struggling to get free. The pain was sharp on his scalp and, for a moment, he wanted to call out to Tony. Call out to be protected; to be saved. He wanted to rely on him but, with one glance at his boyfriend’s terrified face, he knew he couldn’t.

Because Tony was relying on him this time.

“You’re dumber than you look,” Peter spoke, laughing through his pain. “We were going to keep this quiet in civil court but you seem so determined to let everyone know what an abusive asshole you are.”

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Howard retorted, yanking Peter up to face him. “You have no idea who you’re making an enemy of!”

“A businessman.”

“What?”

“I’m making an enemy of a businessman,” Peter repeated, his eyes stinging from the pain but his expression remaining calm. “I’m not an idiot. A rich person like you doesn’t fear court or prison or lawyer fees. You don’t care about anything but your bottom-line and keeping your company out of a scandal.” His brow furrowed then, “So I suggest you let me go before I circulate the files online and burn your precious company to the ground.” Peter’s words were venomous and deathly serious, enough to convince Howard Stark into releasing his hold. 

“Anthony, what have you done?” Howard turned his attention to his son, “Son, they want to take you away from me. They’re blackmailing me in court. Do you know that?”

“I-” Tony was frozen, struggling to find his words, his hands trembling, “I’m-”

Peter’s face softened as he stepped beside his boyfriend, gently interlocking his steady hand with Tony’s shaking one.

“Is that what you want? Stark Industries is yours too, son,” Howard continued. “You’ll inherit billions. They’re trying to take that away from you.” Then he pointed to Peter. “He’s trying to take that away from you. Don’t let this one mistake ruin your whole life.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” Tony finally spoke, his voice cracking as tears started escaping down the contours of his face. “I don’t give a shit about the company. You do! That’s the only fucking thing you care about! So stop pretending you care about what I want! All you do is control my life and beat the shit out of me!”

“I do that out of love, Anth-! _Tony_ , you’ll be the perfect successor. You’re brilliant, son. You got through my encryption. You’ll take Stark Industries so far if you would just _listen to me_! All you need is a little tough love to keep you in line. Keep you away from mistakes like him. I’m guiding you-!”

“You’re abusing me!” Tony yelled, “Just like you abused mom and chased her away!”

“I did not abuse that bitch!” Howard shot back. “She left! That’s on her!” 

Tony inhaled through his teeth, averting his gaze to the ground, “I want them to take me away from you.” He looked up, his eyes red from all the tears but his voice clearer than ever. “Fuck you. Fuck the company. Fuck that fucking house and fuck your dirty money.” He gently squeezed Peter’s hand as he continued. “You always say I’m just like mom, so I’m leaving too.”

“No,” Howard’s voice was taut, “Listen to what you’re saying, son! You’re giving up everything, and for what?” He questioned, gesturing to Peter and the old apartment building. “This?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, stealing a glance at Peter, “For this.”

“You fucking useless child! You need me!” Howard screamed.

And he would have continued too, if it weren’t for the flashes of red and blue and the sirens rounding the street corner. 

“Boys!” It was Aunt May, hurrying down the apartment’s front steps with her hands outstretched, beckoning for Tony and Peter. “Boys, come on inside!”

##  **~*~*~**

“Why on earth do you have so many boxes of clothes?” Peter promptly complained as he opened yet another box filled to the brim and labeled _Tony’s Closet_. “And I swear it’s all the same black shirt!”

“It is not,” Tony laughed as he worked at unpacking a box into his nightstand. “I have at least one white shirt in there.”

“And this!” Peter stepped out of the closet, donning Tony’s cap and gown from graduation. “You looked so cool walking across the stage, getting your diploma—”

Tony snorted, “I got the folder for the diploma.”

“— and, after summer school, you’ll look so cool getting your diploma in the mail.” Peter corrected, smiling as he slid the gown off and started to fold it. “The school was not so lenient about Tony – _puts the T in Truancy_ – Stark, huh?”

“Yeah, turns out you actually have _to go_ to class to graduate, who would’ve thought?” Tony jested, pausing as he pulled a picture frame from his box. For a moment, he stared at the photo, distress clouding his previously content expression, but then he dropped it back into the box, sighing before picking it up again.

“What’s that?” Peter asked as he walked over, kneeling down to get a better look.

Tony shrugged, “A picture of that painting from my old man’s place.”

“You have a copy of it.” It was more of a statement than a question. Still, Peter was stunned that Tony would hold onto it after everything that’s happened.

“Yeah,” Tony sighed again as he placed it back into the box. “But I don’t even know why. I just...”

“You just?”

“I just feel weird being in a place by myself, I guess, and it’s the only thing I have with the three of us together,” Tony sighed, shaking his head. “It’s fucking stupid, I know. He’s in it so I don’t want to put it up but she’s in it so I don’t want to get rid of it.”

Peter smiled, leaning to press a kiss against Tony’s forehead. “Then, while you decide what to do, I’ll get some pictures of us that you can put up.”

Tony smirked, deciding to leave the picture in the box for now. “Can I have that one in your living room of you at the science fair? You know, the one with your hair sticking up?”

“Absolutely not,” Peter laughed, playfully pushing against Tony’s shoulder. “That one of us during spring break is still in the group chat though.” He mentioned, returning to finish unpacking the closet. “I’ll print it out and frame it for you, okay?”

“Thanks, baby,” Tony happily responded, then his voice dropped low and uncertain. “Do you think I should bring up the picture thing next time?”

“Next time?” Peter asked but quickly realized what was meant. “Oh, for your next session? That’s up to you. If you want to talk about it, then go for it. That’s what they’re for.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “You’re right.”

Since spring break ended, a lot has happened. Tony’s dad agreed to let him move out, especially with the looming threat of a child abuse scandal above his head. More litigation was scheduled but they recently got the restraining order approved, which Aunt May called a ginormous win against that _battalion of corporate lawyer dickheads_.

In the meantime, May let Tony stay in their apartment. Though, despite Peter’s promises to keep his door open at night, May refused to let Tony sleep in his room. So for the next couple of months, Tony slept on the couch, and ate dinner with a smile, and watched movies that made him laugh. He sang rock ‘n’ roll when he washed dishes with May and flirted when he helped Peter carry baskets of clothes to the laundry room. His toughest days were his therapy days, when he would come back emotionally drained and tired, but even on days like that, he still managed to smile. 

After graduation, Tony surprised everyone with the announcement of his new start-up business. It was a tech company of his very own, built from his progress with Jarvis and his endless technological imagination. One good payday turned into two and soon, he was even making enough to put himself through university. May suggested MIT but Tony said he would see how he felt after summer school ended.

Moving into his own place was Tony’s next big step. Aunt May demanded that he buy the studio apartment down the hall because _no eighteen year old should be all on his own, young man_. All in all, things were going well and they only seemed to be getting better.

“Hey, Tones, what’s this?” Peter stepped out of the closet, holding up a brown leather jacket that seemed much too small for his boyfriend’s body. “Is this an old jacket? From before you fell into your all-black-everything phase?”

Tony laughed, shaking his head, “No, that’s actually for you.”

“What? For me?” Peter’s eyes widened as he stared at the jacket, his fingers grazing the high-quality fabric. “But why? What for?”

“Our six month anniversary extravaganza,” Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t get a chance to give it to you then and, now, I guess the surprise is ruined.”

“I’m surprised,” Peter smiled as he threw on the jacket. “It’s a perfect fit.”

“Happy eight and a half months, baby.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter grinned, biting at his lip before he spoke. “After we’re finished unpacking, how about I give you your gift too?”

“My gift…?” Tony squinted but then his eyes went wide. “Really? Today? Like _today_ today?”

Peter giggled, “I mean, I’ll have to take a shower first, but yeah.”

“Let’s fucking hurry up then,” Tony joked, making a show of his rush to unpack.

After another hour of diligent work, every box was emptied and every piece of clothing was folded and put away. Posters were hung, and kitchen cabinets were filled, and the couch was angled perfectly in front of the TV. They even carried the boxes down to the recycling bins. Everything was perfect and, when there was nothing more to do, they glanced at each other with blushing faces and simultaneous offers of _you can shower first._ Then awkward laughter as they corrected with a _You can go ahead. No, you can, baby. Are you sure, Tones? Yeah._

It was an exchange that left Peter laying in the middle of Tony’s bed, fresh from his shower and wearing nothing but a black t-shirt from his boyfriend’s closet. Waiting anxiously as he listened to the sounds of the shower water and the hum of evening traffic pouring from the window. Scents from the soaps he had used and the lingering smoke from Tony’s ashtray wafted in the air and filled his nostrils. The only light came from a small nightstand lamp that left the room basked in a dim hue. 

Peter’s heart was racing from thoughts of what was to come and it only quickened as the water shut off. He jolted up, sitting with his calves tucked beneath his thighs, tugging at the shirt’s hem as he stared at the bathroom door. A few more minutes ticked by – where he listened to the sounds of towel drying and moisturizer bottles and toothbrushing – before the doorknob turned and his boyfriend emerged, drying his hair and wearing nothing but boxers.

Tony took a few steps before glancing up from beneath the towel, smiling when he laid eyes on Peter, “That’s a good look on you, baby.”

Peter blushed, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, “It’ll look better off of me.”

Tony gave a light laugh as he tossed the towel against the back of his desk chair, his hair unruly and damp as he made his way to the bed. “I don’t doubt that,” He said as he climbed up onto the sheets, moving to sit cross-legged in front of his boyfriend, putting their bodies only inches apart. “Hey,” He whispered, reaching to clasp their hands together. “You’re sure about this, right? You know I don’t mind waiting for you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Peter smiled, idly caressing his thumb against the back of Tony’s hand. Fresh shampoo scents filled his nose as he scooted closer – close enough to feel the warmth of Tony’s legs against his. “Are you?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tony grinned, lifting Peter’s hand to his chest so he could feel how fast his heart was beating. “I’ve never been more excited to fuck someone, can’t you tell?”

Peter giggled, rolling his eyes with a smile, “No way that’s true.”

“Of course it’s true,” Tony assured, smiling as he reached upward to place a gentle hand against the younger boy’s cheek, thumbing at his jawline and the underside of his chin and against the front of his throat. “You’re the first to make me so fucking nervous.”

“Good,” Peter let out a light huff, grinning, “At least we’re both on the same page.”

For a moment, Tony laughed – and Peter joined, the sound of their laughter blending together in the modest space – but then he was silent. His eyes flickering between Peter’s big brown eyes and soft inviting lips, his breath going a bit shallow as he leaned forward and his eyes fell closed.

And Peter met Tony halfway, capturing his lips, which tasted of spearmint toothpaste, in a tender kiss. One that morphed into an innocent flurry of pecks that he smiled into and took his time with. Only deepening when hands traveled to bodies and lips began to part and Tony’s grip at Peter’s sides pulled him onto his lap. And Peter dragged his hands through his boyfriend’s still damp locks, not caring about the moisture that clung to his palms as he draped his arms over Tony’s shoulders and pressed their bodies even closer.

The brush of their arousals sent a spark of pleasure to Peter’s core, reminding him of just how exposed he was. Spreading his legs caused the t-shirt to hike up, so the only thing that separated his hardness from his boyfriend’s was a thin layer of cotton boxer fabric. The friction left him whining into the kiss. The right angles had his lips stalling like the sensation threw his mind off balance and the wrong ones had his hips grinding to chase what felt so right.

Tony gripped the underside of Peter’s thighs, skimming his fingers against sensitive skin and stopping to cup his ass, pulling his body closer to incite more of that sweet friction. Then, he broke their kiss, opting to bite the younger’s bottom lip before pulling away with a smug grin, “Getting off just on this, sweetheart?”

Peter’s face flushed but he breathed a playful, “No, not at all.” Confidence was abundant in his tone but his lie was so evident in the way he continued moving his hips and showed no hesitation in letting his little moans free.

“Oh, and if I do this?” Tony asked, moving one hand to Peter’s erection, squeezing ever-so-slightly and stroking slowly from base to tip.

The sudden touch brought a breathless moan and a raspy _Tony_ to Peter’s lips. His body tensed and his head lolled backward as the buzz of stimulation brought a bead of pre to the tip of his erection. And when Tony did it again, Peter started stammering, “I-I’ll c-come, T-Tony, I-”

“I know, baby,” Tony whispered, halting his movements to wait for Peter to calm down. “But you know better than that, right?” He grinned, a smug grin that made Peter’s already flushed face go a deeper shade of red.

“Yes,” Peter whimpered, excited by the way his boyfriend was talking to him. He liked this part of Tony – the part that was in control and confident.

“Then say it,” Tony demanded as he thumbed slowly at the head of Peter’s length.

“I-” Peter groaned, his nails digging into Tony’s shoulder blades as he fought against the urge of release. “I d-don’t come unless you say so.”

“That’s right,” Tony smiled as he went back to stroking. Watching as Peter got dangerously close to the edge and then abruptly slowing down just before the younger boy had a chance to lose it. And then he would do it again, and again he would watch his boyfriend’s wanton reactions; the sweet shaky breaths, the whole body flinches, the high-pitched moans.

Soon, Peter was sweating, skin glistening in the low light as he was mercilessly teased and edged. It was torturous but it was nice; after all, this was something they had done before. The familiar territory helped him relax, helped him cast off the anxiety and the unease, helped him to be confident and stay in the moment. Helped him find the courage to steer them towards the next step.

“Tony, I want you inside of me,” Peter moaned against his boyfriend’s ear, adding a breathy _please_ because his body urged him to.

And Tony’s muscles tensed and his breath hitched and his eyes near dilated at the sound of his boyfriend pleading for him. "Okay," He nodded and tugged at the t-shirt. "Then take this off for me," He instructed as he halted his hands and shifted off of the bed, moving to grab a bottle and two condoms from his dresser drawer.

As Peter pulled off the t-shirt and realized what the bottle was, he blushed. He found himself embarrassed that he didn't have his own – especially when he was the one asking for his boyfriend to be _inside him_ – and he also wondered how Tony remained so unfazed when he carried those things to the bed. 

Peter wanted to ask but he was already being pushed down against the pillows and sheets, his mouth once again being overtaken by his boyfriend’s lips. This kiss was more carnal than the last, a mix of swirling tongues and an urgency akin to hunger. 

Tony hovered downward then, trailing sloppy kisses against the younger's now bare chest, taking a moment to lick circles against each of his nipples before continuing south. Peppering more wet kisses across Peter's abdomen and, when he reached his waist, he licked his way down Peter's length, savoring the startled moan that ripped itself from the younger's throat. He smiled as he spread his boyfriend's legs and went even further, kissing beyond the base of his twitching erection, all the way to his untouched hole. 

Peter could feel the heat burning in his face and he would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous, especially when Tony kissed him _there_. “Tony?” His voice cracked.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you tell me- _um_...what you’re going to do?”

Tony blushed at that, pausing his kisses and sitting up on his knees. One hand keeping Peter's legs splayed open and the other reaching for the bottle. “I’m- uh… I’m going to finger you with this first,” He explained, the redness in his cheeks still visible as he popped the cap open. “I'm going to use a lot, so I don't hurt you too much." He brushed his fingers against Peter's entrance, "You’ve never touched here, right?”

“Never,” Peter admitted, his heart thrumming as he watched Tony coat two of his fingers with lube.

“So it’ll probably hurt a little but I’ll be careful, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter breathed, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the cold slick push against him. He held his breath and, with a little more pressure, a single finger was pressing into him, sliding into his tightness with little resistance. 

“How’s this?” Tony whispered, eyes frantically searching Peter's expression for any signs of pain.

Peter exhaled slow, checking in with himself as he did. It didn't feel good or bad, just foreign and unusual. He opened his eyes, gazing up at his boyfriend and speaking an honest, “Uncomfortable.”

“Should I keep going?”

“ _Mhmm_ ,” Peter nodded, giving Tony the go-ahead to continue. 

So Tony pushed his finger deeper before pulling out slow, then he repeated, keeping his motions steady and smooth and careful. For the most part, Peter was silent, save for the small whines that escaped on the tops of his heavier breaths. In the lack of stimulation, his erection had started to soften but he was still very much aroused. The feeling of Tony's eyes on him was enough, especially when he was staring like Peter was the only thing in the world worth looking at. And between the sultry gaze and the gentle finger fucking, Peter's arousal was burning hot. _It's not that bad_ , he thought, but the addition of another finger had him wincing.

“Wait-! Tones,” Peter flinched, reactively tensing at the pain of being stretched but fighting against the impulse when the tension only made it hurt more. “I-It hurts.”

“Okay, okay,” Tony eased, stopping his motions but keeping his two fingers halfway inside. “Is this fine?”

“Yes,” Peter’s breath was sharp on the inhale and shaky on the exhale. “J-Just don’t move.” He instructed as he forced his body to relax. The pain was not unbearable but, as a couple of minutes ticked by, the panicked thoughts swarming his mind started to be. _Why do two fingers hurt like this? How am I going to fit more? Is Tony getting impatient? Is he bored with me? Is this supposed to feel good? Is something wrong with me?_ Peter shook his head, whispering a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” Tony immediately retorted. “If it hurts, it hurts.”

“I know but I-” Peter struggled on his words, trying to ignore his insecurities. “I just _really_ want to make you feel good.”

“You are,” Tony leaned down, smirking as he pressed a kiss against Peter’s lips, pulling away just enough that the tips of their noses barely brushed together. “I could come just from watching you.”

“ _Tones_ ,” Peter whined, averting his eyes, trying to hide his flushed face. “I’m serious.”

“I know but just don’t worry about me right now,” Tony asserted as he sat back up, careful to keep his fingers still. “We’re on your time, sweetheart. Take as long as you want.”

Peter locked eyes with Tony’s patient ones, feeling his anxiety ease as he did. The older boy really was just waiting, one hand gently massaging the sensitive skin of Peter’s inner thigh and the other exactly where he was told to leave it. Peter took a deep breath, actively convincing his muscles to relax and realizing that the pain was absent when he remained calm. So he breathed a quiet, “You can move them.”

And Tony nodded, wordlessly moving to squeeze more lube at Peter’s entrance before pushing his fingers in the rest of the way. Falling into the same steady pattern as before, attentively watching as Peter relaxed around the gentle finger fucking. And once Peter felt loose enough, Tony added more lube and another finger. This time, it was a painless stretch.

“Baby, you look so fucking gorgeous right now,” Tony praised as his eyes glanced across Peter’s pliant body. “You’re doing so good, you're taking my fingers so good.”

Peter’s entire body reacted to Tony’s words – even his waning erection twitched at the sound of them. “It’s for you,” Peter breathed out, his voice low and airy.

“Hm?” Tony asked, his brow slightly furrowing.

“I’m doing good for you, Tony.”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can’t talk to me like that. It’s gonna go to my head, make me lose my patience.” Tony gave a sly smile as he started curling his fingers, slowly prodding upward, searching and seeking, like he was trying to find something and – _fuck._

An unexpected jolt of pleasure hit Peter so hard that, as he moaned, his voice cracked and the sound he made came out like a strangled whimper. The intensity of the feeling left him dazed, unable to process just how good it felt because Tony’s fingers were suddenly colliding with that spot again. It was almost overwhelming; a pleasure that operated somewhere between his typical orgasms and some fictional unattainable euphoria. Yet, judging by the way his hands clawed into the sheets, and the way his back arched, and the way he couldn’t exhale without a whine, this pleasure trended towards the latter.

Tony playfully grinned, unrelenting in his assault on Peter’s sensitive bundle of nerves. “Is it good, baby?” He asked as he upped the ante, bringing his free hand to stroke along his boyfriend’s stiffening length.

“ _Tony_!” Peter’s hands shot down, clutching at Tony’s wrist, urgently pulling his hand away from his erection. “W-Wait, I’ll come-!”

“That wasn’t an answer, sweetheart.” Tony clutched the base of Peter’s dripping length and massaged his thumb across the wet tip, syncing his teasing with each thrust of his fingers.

Peter released a gasp that quickly morphed into a harsh moan. The heady feeling left him frantically squirming backward, trying to evade the fervent pleasure but finding himself propped up on the pillows, trapped between the headboard and his boyfriend’s torturous hands. “It’s good!” He choked out, all teary-eyed and desperate. “Tony, I- _ah!_ Can I c-?”

“I want you to beg for more,” Tony interrupted, slowing his hands before pulling away entirely, watching with a smirk when Peter’s hips flinched to chase the contact. “Will you do that for me, baby boy?” He asked as he leaned forward, holding himself steady with one hand and placing the other against his boyfriend’s throat, squeezing just enough to make his breaths come out shallow. “Will you beg me to fuck you?”

And Peter, whose eyes were blown from the stagnant bliss, immediately did what was asked of him. “ _Please_ .” His voice came out slightly hoarse, strained by the pressure against his neck. “Please fuck me.” He begged, keeping his eyes trained on his boyfriend’s face. “I-I want it...your dick...inside me, _please_.”

“Fuck, I want to fucking ruin you,” Tony whispered, using his grip on Peter’s neck to guide him into a harsh kiss before pulling away and releasing his hand. “And I don’t think you understand how much.” Then he took a deep breath and smiled. “You’re such a good boy for me, Peter.”

Peter’s heart was racing and his face was warm and his erection was aching; Tony just had that effect on him, especially when he spoke like that. “Tones, _please_ …” He whined, eager and pouty, like he couldn’t wait another second. 

Tony laughed low, excitedly moving to pull off his boxers before returning to his place between Peter’s legs. 

And just like the first time he’d seen it, Peter had to actively prevent his jaw from dropping. Tony’s dick was big, thick, hard – basically everything Peter wanted when it was being shoved down his throat. This, however, was much different. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of it in his ass. “Is it going to hurt?” He asked on impulse.

“Maybe a little.” Tony was honest. “I stretched you a lot but it could still be uncomfortable,” He explained as he rolled on a condom and slicked on some extra lube. “But I’ll be gentle,” He said as he positioned himself at Peter’s entrance. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

With a small push, the tip slid right in, popping inside without resistance like Peter’s body had been used to it forever. The feeling was hot and tingly, but Peter remained calm, attempting to keep his muscles from going rigid as Tony kept going. Halfway in was more of the same but beyond that was an uncomfortable pain. Not a sharp or stinging kind of pain, but a dull and throbbing one that left Peter flinching and sucking air through teeth.

“You okay?” Tony asked as he stopped his advances, dragging a tender hand through Peter’s hair. “Is this too much?”

“No,” Peter shook his head, reaching to hold Tony’s hand. “Don’t stop, keep going, I can take it.”

Tony’s breath hitched, his resolve to be gentle faltering under the weight of Peter’s tempting words. “You want the rest of it, baby?” He asked, squeezing Peter’s hand before he pulled away, hooking his arms beneath Peter’s thighs and gripping at his waist. 

“Yes,” Peter murmured, moving to clutch at the pillow above his head, bracing himself.

So Tony pushed forward again, quicker than before, plunging deep enough to rip a loud groan from the younger boy. And then he held himself there, indulging in the pleasure of his boyfriend’s tightness, his voice strained, “How’s this?”

Peter felt like the wind was knocked out of him. The swift thrust left him tremoring around the thickness, panting like Tony’s dick had stolen his oxygen and replaced it with the strangest blend of pleasurable pain. The drag of the shaft against that bundle of nerves was what did it; he was sure, especially when Tony moved to pull out and the sensation was enough to make him feel like he was going to come. “I l-like it, Tones. It feels g-”

Peter couldn’t finish his sentence as Tony started pushing back inside. The thrust was just as fast as before, leveraged by his tugging at the younger’s waist and fueled by the ecstasy buzzing within them both. So Tony repeated his thrusts in quick succession, pulling out halfway before rolling his hips and burying himself back inside, occasionally pulling out until just the tip remained so Peter could catch his breath.

And Peter could tell with one glance that Tony was melting in the sensation; his eyes were half-lidded, his hands were gripping bruises, his forehead was beading sweat. The way his body flexed was pornographic, making Peter’s already stiffened length even stiffer, and the force of his motions was eager, overexcited, indulgent. Yet, none of that could compare to the sounds he was making. Peter had never heard Tony moan like this; so unbridled and honest. It left him leaking pre all over his stomach.

But Peter couldn’t come – not because Tony had not given permission, but because he couldn’t. The pleasure was there but orgasm still felt far away, like all he needed was just a little more. _Just a little_.

“Hey!” Tony grabbed Peter’s wrists, yanking them above his head and pinning them there with a single hand. “Who said you could touch yourself, hm?”

_Fuck._ Peter was so wrapped up in the feel of it all that he didn’t realize his hands had started moving toward his erection. “S-Sorry, I just...it wasn’t enough.” He blushed, his heart racing at his boyfriend’s strength.

“What?” Tony gave a mischievous grin, shifting his weight against Peter’s crossed wrists and bringing his free hand to Peter’s throat. “You want more?” He asked as he squeezed, laughing low when Peter gasped. “I’m not going to be gentle anymore, Peter,” He whispered, “Let me know if I should stop and I will.”

And when Peter nodded, Tony let loose. Keeping his grip at Peter’s throat steady as he slammed all the way to the base, pulling out almost entirely before driving back in. Besides the amount of force, Peter thought it would feel the same. He was _wrong_. So fucking wrong. This pleasure was different – different enough to leave Peter screaming – and the only changed variable was the angle. Tony wasn’t just rubbing against his prostate anymore, he was practically brutalizing it. Each thrust hitting it so directly Peter wondered if pleasure was even the right word anymore because, for him, it felt euphoric.

“This enough for you, baby boy?” Tony teased, loosening his grip on the younger’s neck as he continued his fervid assault.

Peter wanted to be playful, challenging, witty, but the only words he could manage were coated in a desperate need for release. “ _Yes_ , T-Tony, can I- please, can I come? P-Please, _please_.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Tony finally gave in, releasing Peter’s wrists and using his hand to stroke at the neglected cock. “Since you asked so nicely,” He rubbed his thumb against the head, keeping his thrusts steady. “You can come.”

And Peter did. He came harder than he ever has. All shaking and screaming and teary-eyed as his cock pulsated, shooting thick lines of cum against his stomach and twitching when Tony milked out the rest. The aftershock had him dazed and sensitive, even Tony’s touch burned with an agonizing bliss. All he could do was lay there, trembling around Tony’s dick, which remained buried deep inside of him.

“Look at you,” Tony breathed out, grinning sly as he smeared his hand through the cum. “You think we’re done?” He shook his head, bringing his wet hand against Peter’s face and rubbing it across his cheek and lips. “All that talk about wanting me to feel good, but here you are, looking fucked stupid.”

“I’m not done,” Peter exhaled, tongue darting out to lick the mess on his lips, challenging his boyfriend despite his body urging him to reject more pleasure. “We stop when you say stop.”

“Big talk,” Tony gave a light laugh and then, without warning, he lifted Peter by the waist and flipped them over. “Let’s see you back it up,” He said as he ran his fingers up the younger’s thighs. “Ride me.”

When Peter felt the gravity keeping Tony’s dick buried inside, his body screamed with overstimulation and, judging by the smug grin plastered across his boyfriend’s face, it must have shown. He didn’t care. Instead, with the goal of making Tony come at the forefront of his mind, he pressed his hands against the older’s chest, lifted his hips halfway up, and dropped them back down.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Peter muttered under his breath, wincing from the overwhelming spark of pleasure. “Like this, Tones?” He whined as he repeated his motion, moaning and letting his hips fall into a rhythm. 

“Yeah,” Tony groaned out as he skimmed his fingers to the sides of Peter’s thighs, which would tremble after each drop. “Just like that,” He assured, his eyes flickering between Peter’s lust drunk face and his diligently working hips. “Tell me how you feel, baby boy.”

It wasn’t a question – Peter knew that – but his focus was on keeping stable, fighting through the sting of breathtaking stimulation as he vigorously bounced his hips. So, instead of obeying, he took a page out of his boyfriend’s book and talked. 

“Are you going to come inside me, Tones? Are you going to give it to me? Fuck, I want it so bad. I want your cum, Tony. You feel so fucking perfect. You stretched me so well. Look how good I fit around you now.” He managed to say it all confidently, despite his slightly ragged voice.

And it paid off because, soon after, Tony was coming. Peter could feel the warmth of his climax filling the condom inside. It was a strange but gratifying feeling, only improved by Tony’s blissed out expression.

Peter carefully lifted himself off and collapsed against the sheets. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and panting. The aftermath of his orgasm still imprinted on his senses. His body felt floaty and, if he even thought about the pleasure he had experienced, a wave of chills would quake through his body like a visceral reaction to being so utterly pleased. “Is it always like that?”

Tony breathed a short laugh, looking just as wrecked as his boyfriend. “Fuck. I hope so.”

Peter giggled as he scooted closer, draping his arm across the older’s torso, “So you liked it?”

“Yes,” Tony answered without hesitation. “Holy shit, baby, of course, I did.” He stressed as he eased into the cuddling, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “Did you?”

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed but quickly lowered his tone, blushing at his overexcitement. “It was good. Really good. You’re really good. Like almost too good.”

Tony snickered, “I’m glad, especially since I ticked every box but the one.”

“What?” Peter was confused and then he wasn’t as he remembered his drunken list of wants. “Oh. _Oh!_ ” His blush deepened as he nervously shook his head. “You don’t have to check that box if you don’t want to. We have plenty of time to say it later. Honestly, it’s okay.”

“But I want to and you deserve it,” Tony whispered. “Because you mean everything to me, Peter.”

Peter was stunned by his boyfriend’s candid words and his heart pounded in his ears as he responded with a quiet, “I do?”

And Tony just nodded and leaned in for a kiss, pouring his emotions into the gentle contact and, as he pulled away, he whispered _it_ . So perfect and meaningful that Peter almost burst into tears as he shakily reciprocated. The soft laughter that followed kept him grounded as Tony said _it_ again and again and again. The moment was special. Precious. 

And it was theirs, and theirs alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment and let me know how I did. <3
> 
> Tumblr | @obligatorynasty

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Weight of the Knife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940937) by [snowkido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkido/pseuds/snowkido)




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